


Winter Winds

by aSofterPunk



Series: Punk AU [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Acephobia, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, Nbphobia, Punk AU, Remy has terrible coping mechanisms, Transphobia, arophobia, enbyphobia, yes this is a twelve chapter story about two characters from instagram YEET
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aSofterPunk/pseuds/aSofterPunk
Summary: Remy is a tattoo artist with attitude and attachment issues for days, but he figures his unhealthy coping mechanisms are the lesser of a handful of evils. That is, until someone new breezes into his life, falls head over heels, and steadfastly refuses to let Remy keep hurting alone.





	1. Crying in the Club

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Punk AU- find more at asofterfan.tumblr.com <3
> 
> ****PLEASE READ THE ADDITIONAL WARNINGS AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy carries the sting of a thousand small cruelties. They start to add up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: underaged drinking, mentioned drug use, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, acephobia, arophobia, general ignorant asshattery

Remy is fifteen when he realizes that he has no friends.

He had always been popular- adults called him “charismatic” and “good with others” and a “social butterfly”. The kids called him “cool as fuck”. He held his head high, wore his shades inside, spoke sass like it was his native tongue. He didn’t walk, he _sauntered_.

For as long as he could remember he had been surrounded by people- people laughing with him, and inviting him to every event, and crowding around him at lunch, and maybe he kept them at arm’s length a bit but he still called them ‘friends’. But then one day his dad has to work late and Remy sat on the front steps on the school to wait for him, scrolling through apps on his phone, when one of the students sitting around him asks, “why doesn’t your mom just take you home?”

It feels like ice water over Remy’s head, and he’s glad he has his sunglasses on so they can’t see the way his eyes widen as he snaps his head to look at the girl who spoke. Her name is Emily and they’ve gone to school together since middle school, and Remy sees her almost everyday, and they talk at lunch and during science, and she has _no idea_ that Remy’s mom is out of the picture. He looks around and realizes that no one in the crowd around him knows about the messy divorce his parents went through when he was twelve, how he started sleeping with his headphones on and blasting music to drown out the yelling and then never stopped because now he needs to drown out his own thoughts, and that his mom isn’t allowed to be around Remy unless his dad is there but she’d rather not be around either of them so it works out he guesses. They don’t know that it was Remy’s fault.

And if he’s really honest with himself? If they knew they wouldn’t care.

Because they’re not his friends.

Remy smirks, tilting his head to look at Emily over his glasses, “Gurl, you know I never miss an opportunity to loiter.” There are some laughs and chuckles, and Remy turns back to his phone and frowns, turning up some music so he doesn’t have to think about it.

~

“So you don’t like sex?”

Remy shrugged, scribbling in answers to the worksheet for her next class, “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you said you’re asexual.”

She had said that, yes. She just hadn’t realized her coming out required a goddamn lecture, “Yeah, being ace doesn’t automatically mean you don’t like sex. It’s about attraction.”

“But if you’re ace and have sex, then what’s the point of even saying you’re ace?”

“It doesn’t _work_ like that, it’s-” Remy let out a huff of frustration, turning to the boy hassling her, “you literally carry a supercomputer in your pocket. Put it to use and Google it, bitch.”

The other student rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t say you’re ace if you’re willing to have sex! It’s just pointless!”

“Not nearly as pointless as this conversation,” Remy deadpanned, gathering her things as she stood from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I lose IQ when I’m subjected to bullshit for too long.” She doesn’t wait to hear any replies, just saunters off without a second glance.

~

Remy doesn’t know how she feels about sex. But she stops trying to figure it out. The last things she needs is more ammo used against her identity.

~

Kevin enters the picture in the middle of Remy’s sophomore year.

The junior had transferred from a school on the other side of town. It was another boy in their circle who introduced Kevin to the rest of them, otherwise Remy doubts he would have ever noticed the boy- blonde, average height, average build, so plain he could star in a Disney Channel show.

Remy didn’t expect to get along, if only because he spent their first meeting dragging the boy to Hell and back. “There are still people named Kevin?” He raised an eyebrow, “That’s so basic. Next you’re gonna tell me you have an Aunt June or something.”

“Um, well…” the junior seemed caught off guard by the snark, but flushed slightly at the last comment.

“Nooooo….” disbelief spread across Remy’s face, “You’re shitting me.”

He shrugged, “My dad has a sister named June.”

“Okay, well… You dad isn’t named like… John, or Bob, or whatever, right?”

“Uh….” Kevin glanced around the lunch table, searching for some kind of support, but was met with glances ranging from amusement to pity, “His name’s Carl?”

“For fucks sake Kevin,” Remy threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation, “Let me guess your mom’s named Alice or some shit with an A huh?”

Across from him, the junior sighed in defeat, “…Allison.”

Snickers rang through the group, but Remy found himself pushing his sunglasses up onto head so he could look Kevin in the eye as he grinned good-naturedly, “Any siblings?”

Luckily, the newest student seemed to get the message that it was all in good fun, grinning back, “I have a sister.”

“I swear if her name is anything related to Britney or Jessica I will scream.”

Kevin smirked, “Tiffany.”

Remy clapped his hands together in emphasis, “BASIC. BITCH.”

“Oh come on, Sleep,” the girl next to him pushed him playfully, “not everyone can be as extra as you.”

He gasped dramatically, “I am not extra,” He pulled his sunglasses back on with a grin, “I’m _elite_.”

The teens around him laughed, even Kevin, and he decided the kid wasn’t so bad.

~

Remy had been 15 when she got her pronoun necklace. At that point she had identified as genderfluid for almost two years. She had tried to wear pronoun pins before, but always seemed to forget them in the morning or misplace them in her disaster of a room. The necklace lives on the side table beside to her bed, right next to her sunglasses. On the first day wearing it to school, she pointed it out to the students surrounding her at the lunch table.

“I know y'all can read, so I made this real simple for ya,” Remy had always been open about her gender, and figured this would help curb the misgendering, “It’s color coded and everything.” The other kids laughed and nodded, carrying on with their conversations, but Remy felt a little better, and her smile was a little more genuine that day.

Just that day, though.

It didn’t surprise her, exactly, the way no one bothered to even glace down to check her pronouns. The way she was waved off dismissively when she tried to correct them. But it still stung.

“How was I supposed to know?” Ariel, Remy’s partner for an English assignment snapped out after the third time Remy corrected her on her pronouns.

“I don’t know, maybe the ‘she’ hanging around my neck, or one of the multiple times I’ve _told_ you. Take your pick, cause if you can’t read or listen, this project is gonna be hell and I will not hesitate to drag you down with me.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, “You say you’re a girl or whatever, but you look the same as you always do!”

“Yeah, genderfluid people don’t acquire their shapeshifting abilities until they turn eighteen. Is that not common knowledge in the cis community?” Remy mocked.

“I mean you’re dressed the same, bitch,” the other girl crossed her arms, glaring, “Like, you’re not wearing a skirt or anything girly!”

“Neither are you, _bitch_ ,” despite her best effort, Remy raised her voice, gesturing at Ariel’s jeans and shirt, “I didn’t realize you were born in the 1930’s, but honestly if we’re judging based off clothes I’m gonna assume your pronouns are ‘ignorant trash’!”

“Remy!” The teacher stormed over to the girls’ table, “That’s enough!”

“Damn straight it is,” Remy crossed her arms, “I want a new partner. Ideally someone who doesn’t have a negative IQ.”

Ariel screeches and soon both girls are yelling, words and curses blending together as the teacher shoves her way between them and fights to regain order.

Remy gets a new partner.

~

Remy goes to a college party wearing the shortest skirt she owns and too much makeup. Someone offers her some sort of pill and it’s not a school night so she takes it. She doesn’t remember much, but she remembers she didn’t feel sad, and in the morning she decides to start growing out her hair.

~

For awhile, Kevin is just another face in the crowd Remy surrounds themselves with. But the more Remy felt distant from the rest of their peers, the closer Kevin seemed to feel. He had been so nonchalant when Remy came out to him, not hassling them about it or badgering them with questions. Whenever he sat down at lunch, Remy would catch him glancing at the pronoun necklace and following it’s guidance like so few in their group did. For every hurtful word or ignorant comment, Kevin would be there, complementing Remy’s comebacks or rolling his eyes, smiling at Remy and stating “some people are so dumb”. He sits next to Remy on the front steps of the school and puts his arm around their shoulders and Remy lets him.

It should feel natural, the two of them getting together.

“Come on,” Kevin whispers, hand on Remy’s cheek to pull them closer, the two of them behind the bleachers after school like a bad cliche, “I like you. Do… do you like me?”

Remy doesn’t know how to answer that. But they know how they _should_.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

People always say you’re supposed to date your best friend, right?

~

Dating Kevin is… weird. Not too much changes, they suppose, but the things that do change make Remy’s stomach clench in a way they don’t really understand. They think kissing is supposed to feel nicer than it does. They think having a hand around their waist should feel safe instead of nerve wracking. They think they should be grateful to be given flowers instead of off put.

But all the good is still there. Their _friend_ is still there. So it’s fine. It’s worth it.

~

They’re in Kevin’s room, laying on his bed, homework forgotten on the floor as they kiss lazily. Remy had kind of been hoping to _actually_ just work on homework instead of being tugged onto the bed again, but he doesn’t think much of it anymore, happy enough to be spending time with the older boy. Or at least, he was, until Kevin slides his hand up Remy’s thigh and starts tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Grabbing Kevin’s wrist, Remy immediately pulls away, “That’s a no-fly zone, hon.” He tries to keep his voice light, despite the confusion he feels because Kevin knows this, knows Remy.

But Kevin moves to kiss his neck, twisting his wrist out of Remy’s hand and placing it on Remy’s hip, “Babe, it’s been almost six months. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Remy pushes him away a little more forcefully, “Uh, I don’t know if you’re suffering some sort of amnesia right now but I’m ace. This isn’t something we wait for it’s something we don’t do.”

“Come on, I’m your _boyfriend_.”

Something about the way he says it, like it should be the end of the conversation, makes Remy acutely aware of his position lying beneath him; the way Kevin looms over him and won’t back off.

He swallows thickly, "Get off."

"Babe-"

"I said _get off!_ " He can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he pushes Kevin and pulls away, finally getting some distance between the two of them, “Yeah, you're my boyfriend, and I’m still ace. You’ve know this practically since we met!”

Kevin starts getting a little heated, throwing his arms out in frustration, “Yeah, but we’re dating. I didn’t think it applied to me.”

“Excuse me?” Now Remy is standing, fuming, fists clenched even as he backs away from the bed, “You didn’t think my orientation ‘applied’ to you?”

“Well I thought you loved me.”

And _that_ makes Remy’s breath catch in his throat. His vision tunnels till all he can see is his best friend. And he wants to say _‘I do’_ , he wants to say _‘not like this’_ , he wants to say _‘don’t make me prove it’._

He wants to say, _‘I thought you loved me, too.’_

But he can’t get any words out, and so Kevin keeps talking, patronizing, “Look, I get if you don’t want to bang random people or whatever, but I’m your boyfriend. You’re not being fair to me.”

Remy swallows thickly, and finally managed to grind out, “I didn’t take you for the ‘dumb jock’ type, but I find it hard to believe you’ve got multiple brain cells when you sprout ignorant shit like that.”

“Oh, well sorry if I don’t know all the intricacies of you being a _prude_.” It hits like a punch to the gut, and Kevin rolls his eyes, his face smug like he’s just won, like he’s waiting for Remy to fold and like _hell_ is that happening. Remy feels like he’s on autopilot, spine straightening, chin up, eyes cold, looking down his nose at Kevin like he was the dirt on his shoe instead of the crumbling remains of the best friend he had ever had.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have realized “no” was too complex of a concept for you. After all, you’ve barely known me a year and most dogs take at least a week to learn that word.”

Across from him, Kevin’s face fell, first into shock, then into fury. He opened his mouth but Remy didn’t let him get a word in.

“It’s okay, most toddlers have trouble with it, but I’ll try to explain the best I can. No, we’re not having sex. No, you don’t always get what you want. No, you can’t tell me what to do. No, we’re not dating anymore since I have become suddenly acutely aware of how out of your league I am. You need me to say it again slower? Or would you rather have a visual?” Remy flipped him off, stone faced even as Kevin’s turned red with rage.

Gathering his things, Remy ignores all the names hurled his way, all the accusations and curses and insults. He refuses to flinch when he hears something crash, though he walks to the door a little faster.

Kevin tries to get the last word in, shouting at his back, “Good! I didn’t sign up for half a boyfriend!”

Remy doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even turn around.

“You couldn’t handle half.”

The door slams behind him.

His footsteps seem to echo through the empty street. Evening has fallen, the sky darkening from pink to deep reds and orange. Remy manages to get a few blocks away from Kevin’s house when he can’t hold it back anymore, and he ducks into an alley between two apartment complexes. Leaning against the brick wall, it feels like everything in him collapses and he finds himself sliding down to curl on the dirty ground and sob into his knees.

The worst part is, Remy already knows that everyone will pour out false sympathies for the breakup, for the fact that he doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore. And Remy won’t correct them; won’t explain that he honestly doesn’t care about the end of the romantic relationship, but that he broke down in an alleyway because he lost his best friend. His only friend.

And logically he knows that he’s been here before. He remembers having no friends before Kevin, being alone in a crowd and he knows that he survived it before. But he doesn’t remember it hurting quite this bad.

This aftermath is so much worse than anything from before, and Remy decides that none of the good times in between were worth it. Not at all.

~

For about a week Kevin and Remy’s breakup is the talk of the school. The masses that huddle around Remy coo and send him pitying glances, telling him there are more fish in the sea while Remy smiles stiffly and nods along. Kevin has a lot to say and he says it loudly. But Remy stays so calm and cool, saying nothing except to cut down anyone who tried to make him explain his side, it was hard to take much of what Kevin said seriously. To an outsider Kevin seemed like a rambling peasant, trying to smudge the Ice Queen’s name. Remy ignored him. Soon everyone else did too.

His dad tries to talk to him. Remy had come home, face blank and empty as he explained that he had broken up with Kevin.

“What happened?” Picani asked, concerned, “Things seemed to be going so well.”

Remy had only shrugged, “It just wasn’t working out.”

“I’m so sorry, Sleepyhead,” he pulled his child close in a one sided hug, “I know breakups are tough. I’m here if you want to talk, okay?” Remy had nodded against his chest, and then locked himself in his room.

Picani tried to bring it up a few times after that, even offering at one point to see if one of his old coworkers from the therapy practice he used to work at could fit Remy in for a session or two. But Remy always smiled and shook his head, “It’s just teen angst, pop. I’ll be fine, promise.”

Still. For about two weeks after that, Remy comes home after school and immediately collapses into bed. Being awake wasn’t very fun.

Finally, almost a month after Remy had their heart ripped out, they sit up in bed, where they’ve been for the three hours since they got home, and realize how pathetic they are.

Fuck this. Remy doesn’t want to sit at home and feel sad. They don’t want to be frustrated and confused and alone with their goddamn thoughts. They decide right then and there that that’s not who they’re going to be.

Filled with determination, they get to their feet, pulling their phone out and scrolling through old messages- there was always someone having a party in this city. Sure enough by the time they’re dressed and pulling on their jacket they have the address of some rich senior who doesn’t mind a bunch of teenagers destroying his parents’ house.

“Hey dad, I’m going over to a friend’s house tonight!” Remy calls out as they head for the front door.

Picani peeks his head out from his office, “Oh, I didn’t know you had plans.”

Remy turned and shrugged, “It was kind of a last minute thing. But I’ll be back in the morning.”

The counselor had a look of concern on his face, “Alright. Text me when you get there?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay,” Remy was already walking away, not noticing their father’s worried eyes following him, “Stay safe, Sleepyhead.”

~

Remy is just killing time before his next class, leaning against a wall and fiddling with his phone, when the jock approached him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the other student smirks.

Raising an eyebrow, Remy looked the boy up and down. He recognized the boy as a recent transfer, a stereotypical football player that Remy thought only existed on tv and cliche teen movies.

“‘Sweetheart’? That’s your opener? Do you get all your lines from B movies? Try silent films, you’ll have more luck.”

A flash of annoyance crossed the other’s face, vanishing as he straightened to stand a little taller, “You know, when they said you had a mouth on you, I was hoping they meant in a… different way,” he leered blatantly.

Rolling his eyes, Remy turned back to his phone, “You clearly weren’t listening then. Any “they” talking about me knows I’m not into that,” he responded cooly.

The other boy only raises an eyebrow, “What, don’t tell me you’re actually straight?”

Remy scoffed, “Did I say I’m straight? I’m ace.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, “So you’re straight.”

“Are your ears just for decoration?” Remy crossed his arms, “I’m ace. I’m not interested in sex with anyone, gender’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe you just need the right person to change your mind,” the boy purrs, putting a hand on Remy’s hip and leaning over him, looming.

Remy gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest in sarcastic shock, “Oh my God! I didn’t know it was possible!” He leaned forward, looking straight into the other’s eyes, “You’ve managed to make me even less interested!” The jock sputtered indignantly, but Remy just smirked and slid around him, not bothering to lower his voice as he walked away, “If I wasn’t ace before, picturing you in bed turned me off for good.”

The hallway fills with whispers and giggles, and Remy knows he won, but he still needs to hide in the restroom for ten minutes because his heart is still pounding from the feeling of being cornered.

He’s not short, but he starts wearing boots with a bit of a heel on them anyway. He feels safer being able to look down on most of his classmates.

~

Maybe being _awake_ wasn’t the problem, it was being _sober_ , Remy decided.

Her laugh came easier after a few cheap beers. A couple shots and she could dance without a care. If she gets drunk enough she can forget that her happiness is an act.

It’s a solid system.

~

Remy is sitting on the steps outside of school, the usual suspects sitting around him as they all passed the time before classes started. Tired and frustrated from a long week, Remy had started ranting about the number of fuckbois at the school, when one of the guys next to them rolled his eyes.

“I mean, you _do_ lead them on.*

Pushing their glasses up onto their forehead, Remy raised an eyebrow, “Literally everyone knows I’m ace. I don’t exactly hide it. How is that leading them on?”

“Well you don’t _act_ asexual.”

“You don’t act like a single-celled organism and yet here we are.”

“I’m just saying,” the boy held his hands up in defense, “that you‘re always flirting with people.”

“Uh, yeah. Flirting is fun. But last I checked talking shit wasn’t the same as agreeing to do the nasty in a broom closet between classes.”

“Wait, did that happen?” A girl on the other side of him chimed in.

Remy shrugged, “No, it didn’t, which made a certain asshole very upset because apparently I broke some sort of unspoken contract by putting a stop to all that nonsense.”

The first boy leaned back, waving his hands in surrender, “Whatever man. I just don’t know what you expect when you…. You know,” he gestured vaguely at them.

Huffing, Remmy leaned forward on their knees, “Yeah, well, my expectations get lower everyday.”

~

Remy loves getting drunk and dancing in the very center of a crowd of people. He loves the warm buzz, and the feeling of human contact without any sort of obligation. He wears tanks and crop tops just to get some feeling on his skin.

~

“So, Sleep, interested in anyone these days?”

The girl leaning next to Remy’s locker bats her eyelashes, an unspoken but clear, _interested in me?_ She’s vaguely familiar, just like everyone else. They don’t know each other.

Glancing over, Remy snorted, “I’m more interested in the state of my cuticles than anyone in this school, hon.” For a moment, the girl looks almost hurt, and Remy finds herself softening, “I’m not into dating. I realized I’m aromantic.”

There’s a beat of silence as the other girl absorbs the information. Suddenly, her eyes widen, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, that’s so sad!”

That made Remy raise an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean,” she has her hands over her heart, looking at Remy with pity like she was a Hallmark movie widow, “you’re gonna be alone forever.”

“Riiiiiight,” Remy drawls, hiding her hurt beneath patronization, “I forgot about how you’re only allowed to interact with a significant other. Ever since that ban on friends and family. Rough times for all single girls.” She wiped away a fake tear.

“You know what I mean,” the other girl frowned, “Are you sure you want that? I mean you’ve dated before, isn’t it better to not be alone?”

And Remy decided right then and there, “No.” She slammed her locker shut, keeping her gaze haughty as she sauntered away, “None of you fuckers are good enough for me anyway.”

~

Remy is in someone’s basement, belly full of whiskey, laughing with a group of people whose names she doesn’t know and pretending she didn’t come here alone.

~

During lunch, Remy noticed a boy, Travis he thinks his name is, staring at Remy’s backpack.

“Dude, if you want the homework answers all you had to do was ask, not stare a hole into my bag.

Travis jumped, startled, but then he smirked, “I was just looking at your pins,” He gestured to the large buttons on the front of Remy’s bag. They were all different flags- a rainbow, the nonbinary flag, genderfluid flag, ace and aro flags, and a large pink button that just had the word “QUEER” in curly black font. Travis shook his head, still smiling, “You have too many _things._ "

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Pardon?”

“I just mean, most people are just gay, or trans, or whatever. You don’t have to be every letter in the alphabet you know.”

He said it so nonchalantly, Remy felt his teeth clench, “Sorry we can’t all be minimalist straight boys.”

Snickers sound through the group, and Travis snorts and rolls his eyes jokingly, and the conversation is forgotten.

~

That night Remy can’t find a party, so he sneaks into a club. He stands in front of booming speakers and loses count of how many shots he has, and doesn’t think about how he somehow manages to be too much and not enough at the same time.

~

Remy is eighteen when he stumbled through the front door, trying to close the door quietly behind him. But the effort was for naught, as the lights turned on, and when he twisted around, his father was standing in the entryway, eyes alight with worry and anger.

“Where have you been? It’s after two in the morning on a school night, I left you five messages and I don’t even know how many texts!”

“I’m sorry, I just lost track of time,” the teenager rubbed his forehead, slipping his sunglasses off to hold at his side. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” He tried to walk past his dad, one hand on the wall to try to keep his balance, but Picani grabbed his wrist.

“No! We are talking about this right now! You can’t just-” he paused when he noted how the teen was swaying, “Remy are you drunk?” His voice was incredulous.

Remy blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his clouded thoughts, “I-“ he pulled his arm roughly out of his father’s grip, “I had a few drinks, that’s all! It’s not like I drove or anything-“

“It’s still irresponsible, and unsafe!” Picani raised his voice, brows furrowed with anger and worry, “You didn’t even tell me where you were going tonight! What if something had happened? I wouldn’t even know where to start looking!”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Remy rolled his eyes, “It’s high schoolers drinking, it’s not that big of a deal!”

“It’s a big deal because I know you’re lying to me!” The counselor’s voice continued to increase in volume. He knew he needed to calm down, to keep his composure and discuss what was happening rationally, to explain his side with a level head. But it was hard.

Because this was _Remy_. This was his child standing in front of him, swaying on his feet, hands trembling at his sides, with dark circles under his glaring eyes and hair a wild mess. It was jarring to see how very not okay his child seemed. And Picani felt his rationality slipping through his fingers.

“You’ve been staying out later and later, you never talk to me, your grades have been slipping, and now this-?”

“I get it dad, I’m a problem child!” He tried to look angry, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice, or the glassy look in his eyes as he ran shaking fingers through his hair.

Picani felt something like desperation rise in him as he took a step forward, “That’s not what I’m saying. But Remy, this isn’t you-“

“ _I am so sick of everyone telling me who I am!_ ” There was a quiet crash as Remy hurled his sunglasses at the wall, the lenses splintering into several shards. Chest heaving, the teen looked up at his father with venom in his eyes, “It’s like _mom_ all over again.”

The words are quiet, and sharp, and suddenly Picani feels like he can’t breathe.

For a moment they both stand, looking at each other and wondering how exactly they got here. Then Remy turns, and without a word, he walks into his room and slams the door behind him.

~~~~

The next morning, Remy comes downstairs and sits across from his dad at the kitchen table before school and lets out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Picani stares down into his coffee, “Me too.”

Remy keeps his eyes on the table, “I’ll do better. I promise.”

There is still something wrong. All his years of training as a therapist and a counselor scream at him to do something- to skip work and school and stay here and find out why his child looks so tired and hurt and what happened and they can’t just leave things like this-

But when he opens his mouth, the words die in his throat.

Remy doesn’t need another controlling parent.

“Okay,” he nods. And then he stands, because if they don’t leave soon they’re going to be late. “Okay.”

~

Picani gives him more space, and Remy gets better at hiding his habits, and they don’t talk about it again.

~

Graduation comes and goes in a blur. Remy hugs people he has no intention of seeing ever again. His dad cries, holding him close and taking an absurd amount of pictures. A part of Remy feels a spark of warmth at how his father glows with pride, how he had jumped up and down during the ceremony, shouting when Remy’s name was called, “That’s my kid! That’s my kid!” like he wanted the whole world to know. The counselor had been so understanding when Remy had chosen not to go to college, instead applying to be an apprentice at a tattoo shop downtown. When he got accepted, Picani had grinned widely and demanded they celebrate.

“Oh, I can’t wait to get something done by you!” He had clapped his hands excitedly.

Remy smirked, “I mean, you _did_ kind of give me the idea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Picani winked sarcastically, crossing his uncovered and heavily tatted arms in emphasis.

A huff of laughter escaped Remy as he turned back to the computer in front of him, continuing to fill out the apartment application open in front of him. As he typed, his father moved to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the form for the small studio apartment.

“Remy… are you sure you don’t want to just live at home a little longer? You know I don’t mind.”

“I know,” Remy looked up to smile gently at him, the man’s face apprehensive and cautious, “and I know it doesn’t look like much, but I don’t mind having a smaller space while I work through my apprenticeship. I’m just…” she took a moment to consider her words. Trying to work around the truth without lying, “I want to start the next phase, you know? Start being an adult.”

Picani still looked concerned, so Remy smiled, leaning against his shoulder, “I won’t be far. You’ll still see me all the time, and I’ll still come by to raid the fridge and do laundry and watch Steven Universe.”

The counselor grinned, putting his arm around his child in a half hug, “Well, I guess when you put it that way…” He swiftly pulled Remy into a full embrace, crying out dramatically, “I guess I just wasn’t ready for my little Sleepyhead to grow up so fast!”

“Daaaaaad!” Remy laughed, halfheartedly struggling to escape.

~

It doesn’t take long to move Remy into his apartment. The space is small, so he only brought a few pieces of furniture. A mattress on the floor, a thrift store loveseat, an old crate to serve as a temporary side table, and a couple lamps. A few boxes and a suitcase held the rest of Remy’s life that he wanted to take with him.

Picani still seems apprehensive, but Remy does his best to soothe him, “I literally _just_ moved in. It’ll look better once I get settled.”

“I know, you’re right,” his dad smiled, “I just can’t believe you’re all grown up now.”

“Taller than you and everything,” Remy joked.

“Only by a couple inches!” Picani cried indignantly, his lips twitching towards a smile.

Shaking his head fondly, Remy opened his arms, “Come on, it’s getting late and you have work tomorrow.”

Pulling his child into a hug, Picani gripped him tight, “I’m always a phone call away.”

“I know dad.”

Their goodbyes stretch a moment longer before the counselor finally takes his leave. The door clicks shut, and Remy moves to sit on the mattress, staring ahead blankly and waiting for twenty minutes to pass, as though his father might come back and catch him if he doesn’t wait. But he’s suddenly struck by the knowledge that he’s on his own now.

Nothing is against the rules anymore.

He doesn’t have to sneak around. He can leave his music blasting while he dumps out his suitcase and finds his fake ID and his favorite club outfit. There is freedom in being alone. No one to tell him who to be, or tell him to change, or be disappointed whether he does or not.

He’s free.

It’s dark outside by the time Remy finishes his makeup and grabs his keys. He grins as he walks down the street, heading towards a night of strangers and mindless noise and bodies pressed against each other without obligation and alcohol to drown out whatever the music couldn’t.

Yeah. Being alone is better.

Remy repeats that to himself a few more times as he makes his way into the night.


	2. Hot Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six Years Later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: alcoholism, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, self esteem issues

No matter what ringtone they chose for their alarm, Remy would always hate it within two days.

Blindly reaching out to turn off the tortuous chimes that indicated it was time to wake the fuck up, Remy sighed heavily. Sitting up, they were faced with the familiar pounding in their skull. The glass next to their mattress was empty, so either they’d have to get up to get water, or not get water. They flopped back onto the mattress.

But within a few minutes their second alarm was chiming, drawing out a long groan as they slapped at their phone again. Fine. Time to get up apparently.

Remy sat up and stretched, scratching at the leftover body glitter on their shoulder from the night before. As they stood they gently kicked a few empty bottles out of their way.

The apartment looked different, but in reality it hadn’t changed much in the past six years. The same mattress sat in the same corner, the same old crate as a side table, the same thrift store rug and old loveseat. They never bothered to get a dresser when their suitcase worked just fine, and there were a few boxes that they had never bothered to fully unpack. Their life was layered on top in the form of posters and ticket stubs and Christmas lights and trash shoved into corners. Sketchbooks lay piled in a corner, and dirty clothes were shoved into a laundry bag, ready for whenever they worked up the motivation to go to the laundromat.

Opening a cabinet in the kitchen, Remy grabbed one of three glasses they owned, filling it with tap water and chugging it. Leaning against the kitchen counter, they fiddled with the ends of their hair. It was mid-back, the pink underside slightly faded. They’d have to re-dye it soon. The ends were dry, and split, but Remy was confident they were hot enough that no one paid attention to their neglected hair.

A third alarm started ringing from their phone. What a bitch. Groaning, Remy stalked over to their bed, snatching their phone and silencing the alarm, quickly going through and turning off all the upcoming alarms as well. They awake enough, they didn’t need an alarm every five minutes today.

Quickly swiping through their phone, Remy hit shuffle on itunes, turning the volume all the way up before tossing it on the couch. The mirror above the bathroom sink showed them the smudged remains of their makeup from the night before. Sighing, they got to work washing it off, nodding their head to the beat of the music.

Once that was finished, they halfheartedly brushed their hair before throwing it into a ponytail, and brushed their teeth. Picking up the mouthwash, they found it was empty, groaning in frustration as they remembered using the last of it the morning before. Rubbing at their eyes, still tired, Remy wandered back into the kitchen, only to return to the bathroom a moment later with a bottle of vodka. Same thing, right? Taking a swig straight from the bottle, Remy swished it around in their mouth, grimacing before spitting it into the sink. Good enough.

Remy was pretty sure they didn’t own any clothing that didn’t have holes in it, or was too small, or both, but there were still a few shirts in the ‘clean’ pile so at least they didn’t have to worry about laundry just yet. Cass once told them their style was “homeless punk”, which like…. Rude, but not inaccurate.

Pulling on their tattered boots, held together by duck tape and spite, Remy finally turned off their music. Their leather jacket was hanging next to the door, and as they slipped it on they made sure they had all the essentials- wallet, keys, phone, sunglasses, headphones, and pronoun necklace with the charm flipped to “THEY/THEM”.

Checking the time, they knew they’d have to skip their Starbucks run if they wanted to be on time to work. Luckily, Remy didn’t give a fuck about being on time.

Caffeine before capitalism, bitches.

~

“What is UP motherfuckers I am so tired.”

“You’re also late,” a tall woman, only slightly shorter than Remy, with light blue hair crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Oh come on, Ali,” A petite brunette piped in from where she was disinfecting her station, “You say that like he’s not late everyday!”

“ _They’re_ not late _every_ day, Cass” Remy insisted, tapping at their necklace as they sauntered over to their own station beside the shorter woman’s, “Some days I’m not scheduled,” they winked.

“Sleeeeeeeep,” Ali sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and drawing the artist’s attention again. “I get that being late is like, your trademark, but what kind of boss would I be if I just kept letting you get away with it?”

“A great one,” Remy replied without hesitation. Putting their stuff down, Remy took a long sip of coffee before continuing, “Ali, I know you’ve been stressed since you officially took over for Rachel-”

“Rest in peace,” Cass interrupted solemnly.

“Stop telling people I’m dead!” Huffing indignantly, a heavily pregnant woman appeared in the lobby, carrying a box full of beat up sketchbooks.

“Rache!” Remy exclaimed, “Tell Ali I can do whatever I want!”

“You most certainly can NOT,” Rachel asserted, moving to brace the box on her hip as she stared down her former employees, “Remy, try to bring your asshole level down to maybe 75 percent. Ali, somehow Remy has managed to keep a good string of clientele and positive reviews. Pick your battles. Cass, stop sending my wife ‘your condolences’.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

“If you say so.”

“Killjoy.”

Rachel shook her head fondly, “Don’t destroy my shop, bitches. I’ll be back eventually.” With that, she headed to her car, leaving the others grumbling behind her. The day continued, each going about their own business, working on designs for upcoming clients, answering emails about appointments. Remy’s phone buzzed beside them, but they ignored it.

About two hours later, a man looking to be in his mid thirties with a few tattoos on his arms already came in without an appointment.

“You guys take walk ins?” He asked gruffly.

“Yeah, what were you looking to get?”

Remy sighed from their station. Brett and Rafa weren’t scheduled to come in for another hour, and Cass was in the middle of a tattoo, which meant the walk in was definitely going to be Remy’s problem.

Sure enough, Ali called them over, “Remy, I got a client for you.”

Plastering on their best customer service smile, Remy sauntered over, “Excellent, what do I have the honor of immortalizing today?”

Dear God, the man was unironically getting a Fight Club quote tattooed on his forearm. Remy almost quit then and there. Ali glared, shaking her head minutely from behind the man, her eyes promising pain if Remy was anything less than cordial. Killjoy.

Gritting their teeth, Remy smiled, “Alright, come take a look at some fonts and I’ll get you set up.”

Remy wasn’t sure if the barely legible cursive font the man chose made the quote better or worse. They decided not to dwell on it. It didn’t take long to print the transfer and get their station set up, adjusting the seat in the center for a right forearm tattoo session. The client was mostly silent as Remy lightly shaved his forearm and wiped the disinfectant over it. Once the transfer the placed, the man nodded, offering a gruff “looks good”.

“Sweet, just hold tight for one more sec, hon.”

Swiveling their stool to face the steel table beside them, Remy got to work setting up their ink, along with paper towels and bottles of water and disinfectant; gauze set to the side for when they were finished.

As they worked, the man looked Remy up and down, “So, what are you?” he asked bluntly.

It hadn’t been loud before, but an uncomfortable silence seemed to settle on the whole shop, Ali glancing over from the front desk in disbelief. But Remy was unfazed. They looked up from their equipment and raised an eyebrow, “I’m a tattoo artist, duh.”

The man rolled his eyes condescendingly, “I mean, are you a man or a woman?”

Clenching their teeth, Remy took a deep breath, “Depends on the day, but today the answer is no,” they tapped on their necklace, the purple charm with a clear “THEY/THEM” on it.

“But what are you _really?_ ”

There was a pause, the tension thick as even Cass paused her work to look over incredulously. Remy wasn’t known for their patience though. They sent the man a cold smile, leaning forward to get just a little too close, “I’m the person who’s about to spend the next hour injecting ink under your skin. _Really_.”

Stuttering, the man’s face turned a shade of red, from anger or embarrassment Remy couldn’t tell, “Are you threatening me??”

“Of course not,” Remy purred, “That would be unprofessional. But maybe you should be quiet now. So I don't… lose focus.” They buzzed the tattoo gun on and off menacingly. Some of the blood drained from the man’s face. He still looked angry, like he had a lot he wanted to say very loudly right now. But he bit the words back and nodded shortly, Remy grinning wider.

“Good boy,” the man flinched as Remy placed a hand gently on his arm, situating themselves to begin working, “Now, let’s get this party started, shall we?” There is no response. Just the buzz of the tattoo gun as Remy did their job, even when they didn’t want to.

~~

“Well,” Cass drawled as the door closed behind Remy’s client, “he’s not gonna be leaving any shining reviews.”

“Worth it~,” Remy sang cheerily. Hey, they did the tattoo and they did it well. It was the man’s own fault he got a side of attitude and malice with his tattoo.

Cass rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the design she was working on in her sketchbook. But Ali frowned, coming to stand by the opening to Remy’s cubical. She spoke softly, her words just for Remy, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he’d be a dick.”

“That’s life, hon,” Remy smirked. Ali didn’t know anyone else who could sound so cheery and so cold at the same time, “Assholes look like everyone else. They don’t wear signs. That’s why it’s best to just assume everyone is terrible until proven otherwise.”

“Well that’s a depressing way to live.”

Remy shrugged, “It’s worked well enough for me.”

Ali isn’t sure she actually believes that, but Remy turns their back to her, continuing to break down their station, everything about them communicating that the conversation was over.

There was a buzz from Remy’s phone. They ignored it.

~~

“Remy, tell Logan he’s overreacting!”

“FALSEHOOD!”

“You’re not helping your case there, sexy specs.”

Remy turned away from their computer, resting their chin on their hand as they took in the two bickering teenagers who had just arrived.

Virgil cut off Logan’s argument, still glaring at him even as he spoke to Remy, “Look, let me explain, Logan’s all in a huff just cause-”

“Nope,” Remy interrupted, holding a hand up with an expressionless gaze, “Don’t wanna hear it. I do not need unnecessary details in order to know with absolute certainty that _you_ ,” he pointed at Logan, “are overreacting-”

“HAH!”

“-and _you_ ,” Virgil’s victory was short lived as Remy’s finger shifted to point at him, “are underreacting.”

Virgil gasped indignantly as Logan started an angry “how DARE you-” rant. Remy sipped their tea and slowly swiveled their chair around until the teens were left arguing with their back. After a few minutes, Ali finally intervened and at least got them to argue more quietly until they finally let whateverthefuck they were going on about go and finally turned their attention back to Remy.

“Any new projects?” Virgil questioned as Logan draped himself across the tattoo chair in the center of Remy’s cubicle.

Remy hummed, “Not really. But I have a few consultations coming up, so maybe soon,” they tapped away at their computer, answering emails to confirm appointments and give price estimates.

Groaning, Virgil pouted, “So nothing for me?”

“Not today, gurl.”

“Uuuuuuuuugh…” he flopped dramatically on top of Logan, “now what?”

“I dunno,” Remy turned to raise an eyebrow at the pile of punks on his chair, “you’re teenage troublemakers. Go make trouble. Somewhere. Else.”

“Meh,” Logan replied, “We’ll just do homework here. We haven’t seen you in like a week.”

“Lucky you,” Remy replied without missing a beat.

“Remy nooooo,” Brett glanced up from the front desk, wide puppy eyes staring at the taller artist.

Cass’ voice was heard from the other side of the divider, “Aw great, now you’ve gone and summoned one of Brett’s positivity rants!”

“Why does no one follow the shop guidelines?” Brett asked, lip trembling as he held up the framed sign that lived on the front desk and pointed to item number four: “No Self Deprecation Allowed”

“It’s cute you think I follow rules.”

Remy continued going through their email, occasionally making notes in their calendar or sketchbook, ignoring Brett’s lecture or the giggling high schoolers behind them.

Things quieted down eventually, with the punks doing some homework assignments while the artists did their work. Remy waved casually when Logan and Virgil finally departed. Rafa emerged from the staff break room, sipping a soda and smiling as the door shut behind the high schoolers.

“Damn. Those kids really like you, Rems,” he commented fondly.

But Remy only shrugged, sipping their tea nonchalantly, “I was in the right place at the right time and they imprinted on me like baby ducklings.”

“Punklings,” Cass’ giggled from her station.

Remy snorted, but turned back to Rafa, “If you had been working that day then they’d be _your_ ‘best friends’.”

Rafa exchanged a look with Brett before shaking his head sadly, “Eh. Agree to disagree.”

~~

Despite Remy constantly being late, they also had a tendency of _staying_ late as well. Once they got caught up in a project they were loath to leave until it was finished. Plus, if they stayed late enough they could go straight from work to one of their favorite clubs.

As the artists finished closing up the shop, Remy sighed as their phone buzzed again. Reluctantly, they pulled the device from their pocket to glance at the messages. There were two missed calls and a text.

**PopPicani:** _Hey kiddo! Sorry I keep missing you. You want to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’s been way too long! <3_

“We’re grabbing some drinks from The Dubliner, you wanna come?”

Remy blinked in surprise as they were pulled from their thoughts. They weren’t sure why the group still asked. Every time their coworkers went out they invited Remy, and every time Remy answered the same way.

“Nah, I’m doing my own thing,” They adjusted their bag on their shoulder as they exited the building, raising a hand in farewell, “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget, you have a consultation appointment in the morning!” Ali called after them, “10:30am! Don’t make them wait!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy responded nonchalantly, tapping away at their phone.

**Sleepyhead:** _Sorry, been super busy lately. Maybe another time though. :)_

Pocketing the device, Remy pulled their sunglasses over their eyes, making their way into the nightlife. Alone as usual.

Just the way they liked it.


	3. Wake Me Up When September Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new client arrives....

The next morning, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Remy burst through the door of the shop at 11am.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault this time!” Remy panted. He was in the ragged sweatpants and baggy crop top that everyone in the shop recognized as his pajamas, a flannel wrapped hastily around his waist. Gripping his coffee and a pastry bag like a lifeline, he looked around the shop frantically, “Where’s the client, I’ll share my muffin or something to appease them.”

“Oh, their appointment isn’t for another half hour,” Ali deadpanned.

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Ali drawled with a smirk, “I had a feeling this would happen so I told you the appointment time was an hour earlier than it actually is.”

Remy sputtered indignantly, “That’s…! How dare you, I….!”

“Remy, drink your coffee,” Rafael chimed in, snickering, “Your sleepy sass sounds do not make a particularly compelling argument.”

Huffing, Remy threw his bag onto a chair in his station, “You guys are the worst. I ran here. RAN. I haven’t moved that fast since gym class in high school.”

“You expect us to believe you ran in gym?” Cass challenged.

“Exactly! You guys are literally worse than high school gym!” Remy glared at each of them in turn, shoving his muffin into his mouth angrily.

Shaking their heads fondly, the rest of the staff returned to their various tasks as Remy finished his breakfast, sipping on his coffee. The caffeine didn’t hit fast enough and he found himself yawning. “Uuuuuuuugh,” Remy groaned, throwing himself into an empty chair at the front desk and laying his head on his arms.

“Sleepyhead, don’t-” Brett began before being cut off.

“Relax, gurl, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Brett shook his head, “Famous last words.”

~

“Remy.”

The artist groaned, burrowing his face deeper into his arms.

“Remyyyyy.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything more than grumble. Surely whoever it was would leave him alone soon.

“REMY!”

A loud ‘BANG’ inches from his face had Remy shooting upright, sunglasses clattering onto the desk and nearly falling out of his chair as he regained his bearings, blinking rapidly. Heart still beating rapidly, he turned to glare at Cass, who was staring down at him with a smirk, her hands still on the desk where she had hit it to wake him up.

“What kind of disrespect?!” Remy exclaimed.

Cass only snickered, “Hey, we warned you not to ‘rest your eyes’, Sleepyhead,” She crossed her arms as she chastised him, “Your client is here, so look alive!”

A light chuckle came from behind her, and for the first time Remy noticed the newcomer. The man was short, standing only slightly taller than Cass’ 5’5”, but he was muscular, and he fit in perfectly with the studio. Ripped jeans and a tattered black tee shirt under a leather jacket, with tattoos poking out from the neckline. He had an undercut, short black hairs contrasting sharply with the messy red/orange gradient that fell around his face, and dark circles under his eyes. When they made eye contact, he gave Remy a crooked smirk, raising his hand lazily in greeting.

“‘Sup.”

Raising an eyebrow, Remy sighed through his nose before grabbing his sunglasses and plastering on a smile as he pushed them onto the top of his head, “Hey gurl, sorry I’m late-”

“I mean, technically you were _here_ on time-”

“Whatever, yeah,” Remy waved his hand dismissively as he gathered his notebooks and his now cold coffee, “Alright, let’s get this appointment going,” He sauntered past the two, entering the lounge in the back, dropping into one of the couches, “Come on, chop chop, waiting on you hon.”

Shaking his head in amusement, the client followed leisurely, as Cass rolled her eyes and returned to her own station.

The lounge was situated past the entry area, and was cleaner and more professional than the staff break room in the back. Photos of the staff and framed art covered the walls, along with a copy machine in the corner, a few couches, and a large coffee table with the artists’ portfolios spread out across it. Consultations were always held in the lounge so that both the client and the artists could be comfortable as they discussed their projects.

As the man sat down, Remy held a hand out, “As you’ve probably already gathered, I’m Remy.”

“Toby,” he replied, shaking the offered hand. Remy noticed his eyes dart down to his pronoun necklace, but he didn’t make any comment.

“So,” Remy crossed his legs, getting comfortable, “let’s talk tatts. I can see you have some tattoos already, you been to our shop before?”

Toby leaned his arms against the back of the couch casually, “Nah. I lived a few hours away during college and just moved back last year. This is the first tattoo I’ve gotten since then.”

Remy nodded, “Alright, so I’ll need to get your information before you leave for our files. But first, tell me about what you’re looking to get.”

Nodding, Toby pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it out as he handed it to the artist with a grin, “I want to get this quote in the center of my back, with some kind of border around it.”

“Well that’s not vague at all,” Remy drawled, taking the page and looking down at the quote.

“Ha! I know, I know,” Toby rubbed at his neck, grinning sheepishly, “I guess I was kind of thinking maybe like, branches, or leaves or something. But honestly I’m open to anything if you’ve got any ideas.

Remy hummed noncommittally. Maybe it was because he was still a little drowsy, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the usual cliches. Virgil might be able to come up with something. “This is a pretty long quote. How big did you want this?”

“I don’t have any tattoos on my back, so I’m cool with it taking up as much space as you think it needs.”

“How do you feel about editing this quote down a little? Just to give some more room for the design.”

Tilting his head, Toby thought about it for a moment, “I think that’d be fine. Could I edit it down myself and email it to you once I’ve worked out what I want?”

“Yeah girl, ain’t no thing,” taking a long sip of his coffee, he leaned back against the couch, “Now, a tattoo this big isn’t going to be cheap, or quick. Obviously what you choose for the final design for the border will effect it, but if I had to guesstimate I’d say you’re looking at probably a four hour session. We could also break it into two session if you wanted.”

“Cool, that’s about what I expected,” he grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ve been saving for this.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Remy raised an eyebrow, “We get your card information before we start inking. I ain’t letting anyone tatt and dash.”

Toby barked out a laugh, “That’s a good system.”

“Mmhmm,” Remy nodded, making a few quick notes in his notebook, “Alright. I’mma need to photocopy your ID and have you fill out some paperwork while we work out a date for you.”

Nodding, Toby pulled out a beat up leather wallet, pulling out his driver’s license to give to the artist. Remy took it and stood to go to the copy machine when he suddenly froze, staring down at the plastic card.

“Toby, huh?” Smirking teasingly, Remy waved the card in front of him, “Cause this says your name is _October_.”

Raising an eyebrow, the man in question grinned, “Who doesn’t love October?”

“I’m not a fan,” Remy deadpanned. It was a total lie, of course, October _was_ objectively the best month, “Besides, if that’s the case why go by Toby? Honestly if no one calls you Doc Oct then what’s the point?” Suddenly he gasped, “Wait. Hold up. Girrrrrrrl why do I suspect you have too many autumn tatts?”

“I have exactly the right amount of autumn tatts.”

Looking back down at the license, Remy burst into giggles, “And your birthday is October 1st?? This is too much, like, I am unprepared for this situation.”

“Falling for me already?” Toby leaned forward, eyes bright and wearing playful grin.

Shaking their head, Remy pulled out a form from one of the drawers in the coffee table, “Tsk, I’m surprised it took you that long to bust out a pun,” he handed the paper to him.

“I try to ease people into the fact that I’m both hot and witty,” he grabbed a pen from the coffee table and began filling in his information.

“And modest, too,” Remy leaned against the copy machine as he waited for it to finish printing.

“What can I say, I’ve got it all.”

“Except height.”

Toby gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense, “Low blow!”

“Any higher and it’d go over your head,” Remy grinned, tossing his ID onto the coffee table and setting the photocopy aside.

Chuckling, the man returned to filling out the form, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the heels on those boots. You can’t be that much taller than me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remy took out his phone, leaning against the wall as he flipped through his calendar, “Alright, so as far as setting you up with an appointment. I’ll need some time to get the design drawn up and approved by you. Plus I’m pretty booked, so next available time slot I could fit you in would be next month on the 18th at noon.”

“What day of the week is that?”

“Wednesday.”

“Hm, no go. Do you have anything on Thursday? The 19th?”

Remy scrolled down the page before nodding, “Yeah, that day is clear. You can pick the time.”

“Let’s do 1pm, I am _not_ a morning person,” Toby looked up and smirked, holding out the completed form to Remy.

“Mood,” Remy grinned back, looking over the page to double check everything looked good before grabbing a stapler from next to the copy machine to attach the photocopy of Toby’s ID. “Alright then, I think you’re set.”

“Aw, getting rid of me already?” Toby leaned forward, chin in hand and he smiled up at the artist, “But we’re having so much fun.”

“So let’s quit while we’re ahead, mmkay?” Tossing his hair back, he picked up his notebook from the table, “I’ll email you once I have a sketch of the design to get your opinion or whatev.”

“I look forward to it,” he stood with a wink.

Remy deadpanned, “Well that makes one of us.”

“So cold,” Toby shook his head with a laugh, “Alright, thanks for everything. We’ll talk soon.”

“Uh huh, byeeee,” Remy waved his fingers as Toby finally left the shop. He barely made it to his station to put his things away and start preparing for his next appointment when Cass’ face peaked above the wall dividing their stations.

“Soooo,” She grinned teasingly, “You two seemed to get along.”

“Ali said I have to have _some_ level of professional courtesy with the clients,” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Cass rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, you were both sassing easy as breathing! He’s the first person I’ve seen in a long time, if ever, that could keep up with you.”

“Oh my God, so what? Witty banter happens, it’s all around us, be more chill, girl.”

“You have his number~” she sing-songed, pointing to the form Remy was putting into his client drawer.

“Yeah, I needed his contact info. He’s my _client_.”

“Oh come on, we’re not doctors or anything, there’s no rule against artist/canvas relationships.”

“‘Relationships’? Ew.”

Cass laughed, “Alright, maybe not a relationship, but there’s nothing stopping you from tapping that!”

Remy felt his teeth clench together, and a lot of words flew through his mind, but he didn’t feel like he had the self-restraint to say any of them in less than a scream. So he settled for a cold, “Right, nothing at _all_ ,” as he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes and returned to looking over the designs he needed to print for his next client.

“Hey, Sleep, I was just kidding,” Cass’ voice was a little softer, “We all know you’re not into that. It was a joke.”

It was a joke he’d heard too many times. It wasn’t really funny anymore. Still, he glanced over the top of his glasses and smiled, “I know, hon, it ain’t no thing.”

“You just seemed to get along more than you usually do with clients,” Cass continued, “If nothing else he just seems like a cool guy.”

“Ooooh, you sure _you_ don’t want to tap that?” Remy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cass threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him as he laughed, “This is what I get for trying to expand your social circle!”

“Give up, babe, I’m a lone wolf,” He grinned. Cass shook her head in fond exasperation as they both returned to their work. Tapping on his phone, Remy entered Toby’s information into his calendar to mark his appoint.

After putting his phone in his pocket, October didn’t even cross his mind.


	4. Blood in the Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Toby is head over heels but he keeps stepping in every. Single. Landmine. 
> 
> This would be easier if Remy wasn’t so convinced that everyone was out to get them.

Remy hated the quiet.

When it was quiet she could hear her thoughts and that was always a mood killer. But the volume in her head varied from night to night. Sometimes she could just pull on a pair of headphones or blast music from her computer in the comfort of her own apartment until she fell asleep.

Other nights she needed more.

There were a good number of bars and clubs in the city and Remy had frequented most of them. But Cityscape was her favorite. A black light club where she could hide in the dark and the neon glow; Big enough to be impressive but compact enough to force people to press together on the dance floor and around the bar. The speakers flanking the DJ seemed to pulse with the bass, the noise powerful and deafening, and Remy loved nothing more than dancing right in front of them.

Her hair was pulled back into her usual high ponytail, and when the black lights flashed you could see the glow of streaks of paint she had sloppily applied to the strands, drips and splatters running down the back of her neck because she had been too impatient to wait for it to dry before jumping into the fray. After a few drinks she couldn’t remember whatever thoughts she was trying to ignore. All she could think about was the way she could feel the bass in her bones and how the techno cords seemed to buzz in her blood. Her teeth gleamed in the black lights as she laughed in ecstasy.

Eventually, Remy could feel her buzz starting to wane, and that just wouldn’t do. Reluctantly, she gave up her spot in front of the left speaker and began to weave her way to the bar.

It’s crowded, just like everywhere else in Cityscape, and Remy presses her way between two groups until she can lean against the bar, batting her eyes once she manages to get the bartender’s attention.

Smirking, the woman makes her way over, “What can I get for you?”

“Tequila soda, please and thanks,” Remy winks, just for good measure, and the bartender chuckles, getting started on the simple drink.

The lights above the bar are standard fluorescent, and they feel harsh on Remy’s eyes after so long on the dark, black lit dance floor. Taking her sunglasses out of her pocket, she fiddles with them, not wanting to put them on, but liking having the option. Once her drink arrives, Remy decided to take some time to sip it slowly, instead of just downing it. She was feeling a little worn out from all the dancing anyways, so a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

Turning to lean her back against the bar, Remy glaces lazily around the bar. On one side is a group of young women, all laughing together, excitedly talking about some finished project and how they simply must do shots to celebrate. They’re energetic, and frequently bump into Remy in their enthusiasm, but she doesn’t mind. To the other side was a couple making out excessively, and Remy cared a little more when they started infringing too much on her space.

“Hey, if you want me involved in your sexy times you have to buy me dinner first,” Remy snarked, shoving them roughly away from where they were pressing into her side. The man turned to glare at her, the woman pouting indignantly. Remy only raised an eyebrow, “Those are my terms, take it or leave it. Preferably the latter.”

Before either stranger could respond, a voice sounded from behind them, “Remy??”

Blinking in surprise, all three turn as a short man with bright orange hair and bright pink stripes on his cheeks like warpaint came barreling over, pushing past the confused couple to stand in front of Remy, “It is you! I thought I recognized that sass!”

“Uhhh…” Remy stared in blatant confusion as the couple resumed their makeout session now that they weren’t being bothered, “Do I know you, hon?”

The man grinned, his black lipstick stark against his teeth, throwing his arms out excitedly and smacking a few strangers in the process, “It’s Toby! I came in for a tattoo consultation yesterday!”

The only response he receives is a blank stare. “Uh,” his smile falters, “I’m getting the quote with the ambiguous border on my back?”

“…”

“…October?”

“Ooooooh!” Remy’s eyes light up with recognition, “Doc Oct! Right, right, right. Sorry, it’s been forever-”

“It’s been one day.”

“-Time is relative, hon,” Remy winked, taking a long sip of her drink.

Toby laughed, shaking his head, “Of course it is. This is crazy, what a small world!”

“And a smaller club,” leaning her head against her hand, she twirled her straw in her drink, “Shouldn’t you stick with your posse? Wouldn’t want you getting trampled in the pit,” she smirked.

“Ha, ha,” rolling his eyes, Toby made himself comfortable against the bar, “I was supposed to meet up with my brother and some of his friends, but he bailed on me last second.” He glanced around the bar, “What about you? You got a hot date hiding somewhere?”

“I’m married to my work.”

Toby’s eyes lit up, glinting with mischief, “Oh, well lucky me, since clients count as work.”

“I’m off the clock, gurl.”

“Everyone takes work home sometimes,” Toby winked.

“I can already tell you’re more work than you’re worth.”

“Ooooh, so cold!” He put a hand over his heart dramatically, but he was laughing, his body language carefree and relaxed.

Remy found herself laughing too.

“Alright, well if we’re both here alone,” Toby drawled with a smirk, “then how about we stick together? Use the buddy system. You _did_ say you worried about me getting trampled,” he pointed out.

“How dare you use my kind and merciful personality against me.”

“Look into your heart, and say you’ll dance with me,” holding a hand out, Toby fluttered his eyelashes appeasingly.

Remy gave an exaggerated sigh, “I suppose I cannot in good faith leave you by yourself to be smothered by a hoard of average sized adults,” she tried to sound indifferent, but her lips quirked up as she downed the last of her drink and took the man’s hand. It was always fun when she got to dance _with_ someone. Toby laughed, pulling her onto the dance floor.

“I owe you my life,” he winked. As they entered the crowd, Remy stepped in front, pulling them closer to the speakers.

There was no such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ dancing at a club- everyone just swayed, or jumped up and down, and it was dark and the lights were flashing, so it wasn’t like you could really judge a person’s moves anyway. But Toby was a _fun_ dancer- enthusiastic and energetic, and occasionally tugging Remy’s arm to twirl her around, his arms reaching ridiculously high just to reach over her head, never failing to make Remy laugh and giggle at his shenanigans. She doesn’t even notice her buzz wearing off again, too distracted by the music, and the bodies, and Toby constantly pulling her into some absurd dance move. She hasn’t had this much fun in awhile.

Remy is still laughing when Toby moves a little closer and puts his hands on her hips. Her smile falters, but only for a moment. It’s not a big deal, after all. They’re just dancing, and at a club like this to music like this a little physicality was pretty much guaranteed. Besides, his hands were warm.

But then she feels his hands start to travel lower down around her back, and _that_ never failed to put a bit of ice in her veins. She ignores the way her heart sinks, the way her carefree happiness from mere moments ago starts to bleed out of her, and wraps her hands around around his wrists, pulling them away from her body even as she leaned in to grin coldly right next to Toby’s ear.

“Think twice.”

Releasing his hands, Remy braces herself. This was the part where Toby would get offended and storm off, or grab Remy a little tighter, or call her all the names she’s been called a million times before. It’s frustrating, but she’s learned how to let it roll off her back.

However, she is _not_ prepared for Toby to hold his hands up apologetically, mouthing a clear ‘sorry!’… and then start doing the macarena.

And even though she’s confused, and still feeling some of the residual ice thawing in her chest, Remy bursts out laughing. The dance doesn’t even match up to the beat of whatever dubstep monstrosity is currently playing, but Toby owns it, if anything only exaggerating the movements once he sees Remy’s reaction, grinning victoriously as she has to clutches her sides from laughing. Toby holds a hand out again, raising an eyebrow in question, and Remy shakes her head in amusement before taking his hand and allowing him to lead her in a over-the-top waltz through the crowd.

Eventually they exited the pit, finding themselves next to the bar once more, both of them laughing and giggling.

“Boi, you are something else,” Remy giggled, pushing some loose strands of hair from her face.

Toby grinned hopefully, “In a good way or a bad way?”

“TBD,” smirking, Remy moved back towards the bar.

“Why must you hurt me so?” Toby cried dramatically, but his lips still twitched towards a smile. He followed after Remy, tilting his head in consideration before sliding next to Remy with a smile, “You know, if you wanted cheaper drinks, I’ve got some beers at my place,” He leaned against the bar and smiled up at her hopefully.

Remy sighed to herself. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

“Not cheap enough, hon,” She said flatly.

Toby blinked in surprise stuttering as he tried to backtrack, “Oh, no I wasn’t- I just-”

“Oooh, I love it when people ‘just’,” Remy purred, leaning forward on her arms to look at Toby with sharp eyes, “It’s a nice little downplay. Makes everything so innocent, right? How could I argue when you _just_.” She stretches the last word, letting it hiss through her smile.

The shorter punk looks like he’s considering his words carefully, but Remy straightens up and turns away before he has a chance to speak, “This club is too crowded. I’ll email you soon about your design,” she waves her hand dismissively as she stalks away. She think she hears him call her name behind her, but she ignores it.

When she gets home, she has one more shot before bed, curling up under her blankets and ignoring the makeup and paint still plastered to her skin. That was tomorrow-Remy’s problem. Shifting to get comfortable on the old, worn mattress, she allowed herself a hum of contentment as the chill she’d felt when she left the club dissipated. She pushed her face into her pillow. All things considered, she figured it hadn’t been a bad night.

~~~~~~~

As usual, Remy woke up the next morning regretting her decision to sleep in her makeup. Taking a longer shower than usual, Remy cleaned herself of all the paint and makeup caked to her skin, and even ran a little conditioner through her neglected hair.

The extra steps to her morning routine meant she walked into work thirty-five minutes late, but Ali just sighed and waved her off. Luckily the day was pretty quiet, no walkins or long sessions, and by the time Virgil slipped in at 3:30, Remy had switched from coffee to tea.

“Hey girl heyyy,” Remy waved as the teen made his way over.

“Hey,” Virgil’s voice was soft, and he seemed a little more solemn than usual, not that that was uncommon.

Remy glanced at the door behind him, “Where’s the nerd herd?”

Virgil shrugged, “Doing their own thing today.”

“Hm. That sounds fake but okay,” she replied, gesturing for Virgil to take a seat next to her at the table pushed against the wall in the front entry room that she had commandeered- the desk in her station too small for her to spread out her sketchbook and notepads and computer the way she wanted to. She cleared off a spot as he sat down, “It’s your lucky day, I got a project for you.”

The teen perked up a little, “For real?”

“Yup. New guy came in for a back piece and I wanted your opinion on it.”

“What’s he want?”

Remy slid over her notes from the appointment, “He wants this quote, centered between the shoulder blades, with a design framing it.”

Virgil read over the quote, “What kind of design was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t solid on anything in particular,” she shrugged, “He said maybe tree branches with some leaves or something.”

The teenager snorted, “That’s not cliche at all,” he drawled sarcastically.

“It’s his money, I’m not getting paid to judge,” Remy shrugged.

“No, you do that for free,” Virgil teased.

“My sass is a gift and you know it,” she smirked, winking. Virgil snorted, shaking his head fondly as he looked back down at the tattoo artist’s notes. Humming thoughtfully, he grabbed a pen and started sketching loosely on the page.

Remy slurped loudly on her drink, tapping away at her laptop while the teen worked quietly. It had been forever since she updated her calendar, plus she had a backlog of emails from people who wanted consultations, so she figured she could pretend to be a responsible adult and take care of that.

It was maybe half an hour later that the peace was broken when the bell above the door chimed, announcing someone’s arrival. Remy glanced up nonchalantly, only to choke on her drink as she did a double take.

Toby smirked, raising his hand in a half salute, “Sup!”

Remy coughed, clearing the liquid from her throat as she raised an eyebrow, “Uh, is this some kind of glitch in the Matrix because I KNOW you don’t have an appointment today, hon.”

The man shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waltzed over, “I know, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and say hey.”

“Well now you’ve said that and more,” Remy snarked, trying to hide her confusion. ‘Say hey’? This was the same dude she blatantly snubbed the night before, right? Right? Oh God, she hadn’t been that drunk, had she? No, no she’d barely been tipsy, it was definitely him. This was definitely the guy she turned down and snapped at.

October laughed, “I suppose I have. But I think I can afford to go off script.”

So what the _hell_ was he doing here?

“Depends on who’s writing the script,” Remy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk, “some cue cards wouldn’t hurt, unless you’re _trying_ to seem like a stalker.”

Virgil glanced between the two, pulling his sketch to his chest to hide it from the stranger as Toby gasped sarcastically, “Oh, right through the heart,” he smiled, dropping into a seat across from the other two, finally turning to Virgil, “And who is this? I’m Toby,” he held his hand out, but the teen only glared at it suspiciously.

Remy rolled her eyes, reaching out to high five Toby’s outstretched hand, bringing his attention back to the tattoo artist, “This sad boi is Virgil. He’s kind of an apprentice here.” She turned to grin at Virgil, “And this hippie is _October_.”

“…Seriously?” Virgil grinned slowly, eyeing the man sitting across from him.

“I can show you the photocopy of his id if you don’t believe me,” Remy laughed.

“Gee, I wonder when he was born.”

“Gurl, I’ll give you one guess.”

“If he takes off that jacket how many of his tattoos are going to be Halloween related?”

“Enough,” Remy winked, and she and Virgil snickered as Toby huffed indignantly.

“Oh please, my aesthetic is the best and you know it,” Despite the soft blush on his cheeks, the man unzipped his jacket, sliding it off to show his ink, “You guys wish you were as cool as October,” He put his hands on his hips, jutting his chin out defiantly.

“I guess things are usually pretty chill that time of year,” the tattooist chimed in jokingly.

But Virgil got distracted by one of the tattoos peaking above the neckline of Toby’s tank top, “Do you have a Nightmare Before Christmas tatt?”

“Hell yeah!” He pulled his shirt down a bit, revealing more of the classic spiral hill, “You a fan?”

The teen nodded, “Yeah, it’s definitely a fav,” he smiled, “I like protagonists who fuck up. Makes them more relatable.”

“I totally get that. Plus, Sally’s look is iconic.”

“Definitely,” Virgil chuckled.

Toby glanced around the shop casually, but seemed to freeze when his eyes landed on Remy’s station. Remy furrowed her brows as she could practically see a light bulb going off in the man’s head. But before she could turn to see what he was looking at or question him about it, Virgil spoke up in realization, “Wait, October, fall aesthetic dude…” He turned to Remy, “Is this the new client you were talking about?”

“Yup,” Remy popped the end of the word nonchalantly.

“Oh, you talking about me?” Toby wiggled his eyebrows, returning his attention to the two artists.

“Yeah, Virge is gonna save you from a boring tattoo. You’re welcome.”

Virgil’s eyes widened a bit, clutching the notebook a little tighter in his hands, “I mean, i-it would have been fine I’m sure. Not to insult your, your ideas or anything, I just had an idea a-and, and I thought maybe…” the teens voice got softer and softer as he rambled.

“Hey, no worries, kid,” Toby laughed, a hint of concern in his eyes that surprised Remy, “I’m glad to get some help, I had trouble thinking of anything other than the usual, you know? So any critiques are appreciated.”

Humming in response, Virgil nodded, still not looking up at either adult, “Well, I’ll… I’ll sketch some stuff and have Remy send it to you later to see. I… I don’t have anything done yet.”

Toby nodded, smiling softly, “Sounds good. I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” He looked over at Remy, batting his eyelashes, “I’m glad to be in such capable hands.”

Remy felt her eye twitch. She wished she had her sunglasses on. Toby could bond with Virgil all he wanted, the kid could always use more friends, and Remy could already tell they would get along like a house fire. But she didn’t need Toby trying that with her. She was done with that shit.

“Yeah, they’re capable of slapping a bitch too. So why don’t you run along until you’re actually scheduled to bask in my presence, mmkay?”

Virgil glanced over, confused at Remy’s suddenly cold tone, but if anything, October’s gaze only softened, “I suppose I should let you get back to work. But this was fun!” He stood, pulling his jacket back on, “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” He winked at Remy, who couldn’t hide her dumbfounded expression at his words. Giving Virgil a quick wave, he exited the shop, the bell chiming behind him.

“What… was that about?” Virgil questioned.

“Nothing,” Remy recomposed herself, flipped her hair, “Just a clingy client. Now, where were we…” She took her notebook back, focusing on the different designs she needed to work on and ignoring the dull ache in her chest that she refused to name.

~~~~~

For a few days, Remy was able to push the weirdass client from their mind. Finally clearing out their email meant a week full of consultations and even more full of annoyed clients complaining about “why can’t you schedule me sooner? Can’t you just fit me in somewhere? It’s not like my tattoo will take _that_ long” and then Remy scheduling them even further out out of spite while Ali sighed heavily in the background.

Virgil was hanging around a bit more, which was nice, but the others punks weren’t, which was odd. But the kid was working hard, helping around the shop and sketching concepts for Remy to critique, so there wasn’t really anything to complain about.

The hectic week meant Remy had only gone clubbing once, not even bar hopping the way they often did, instead choosing to go home and crash on their own. They also spent a little more time at Starbucks in the morning, downing one venti coffee in the shop so that they could get another to take with them.

That’s where they were currently- waiting in line to get their second coffee before heading back to work. They had two actual tattoo appointments today, which was nice because that meant that after today that would be two less people they’d have to deal with. The Starbucks wasn’t particularly crowded, the morning rush having already passed earlier, but Remy still didn’t pay attention to the people coming and going.

“Oh my gosh, Remy!”

Which was a mistake, apparently, as Remy whipped their head around to see a familiar orange haired punk standing excitedly in the doorway. The tattoo artist could only gape as Toby trotted over happily, “Holy shit, what are the odds! How are you?”

“I-…” What? What was happening right now? “What are you doing here?”

“Getting coffee, duh,” Toby smirked, “I work at the shelter a few blocks down, and our coffee machine broke the other day and no one’s replaced it yet. So here I am! But more importantly, here you are,” he grinned up at the taller punk, “I thought I was gonna have to wait for your email to talk to you again, but it looks like the universe is on my side.”

“I think it’s less the universe liking you and more the universe hating me,” Remy rolled their eyes, turning away as the barista called for the next person in line. “Two venti coffees pleaseandthanks,” this morning was going to require more caffeine than usual.

But as the barista rang them up, Toby jumped up to the counter, “And a grande americano please!”

“Excuse me, I’m not-”

“It’s on me!” Toby squeezed his way in front of Remy, holding out some cash for the confused looking barista, who took it with a shrug after a moment.

“WhatwhatWHAT are you doing?” Remy crossed their arms in annoyance, “What, are you trying to bribe me? What are your terms? The answer is no regardless but I need to know how vicious to be.”

Toby laughed as they both moved away from the counter to get out of the way of the next customers, “It’s not a bribe, it’s…” he tilted to head side to side as he considered his words, “It’s positive reinforcement.” he decided with a smooth smile.

“…Pardon?”

“Yeah,” he continued mischievously, “Surely you can’t be annoyed at chatting with me if you get free coffee out of it, right? So now you have a positive association with talking to me! So maybe we can talk more?” He asked hopefully, handing Remy their coffees after the barista handed them to him.

Remy narrowed their eyes suspiciously, “…You’re weird,” they stated, taking the offered coffee as Toby let out a laugh.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“It means you’re on thin ice but you haven’t fallen through yet,” Remy deadpanned, taking a long sip of one of their coffees. “I’m going to work now.”

“That’s fair,” he responded coolly, still smirking victoriously, “I’ve should get to work too. But I’ll see you around,” he waved after Remy as they moved quickly towards the exit.

“I hope not!” They called back. Toby shook his head fondly as he watched them leave. 

This was going to be interesting.


	5. Call Me Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby is STILL head over heels and he’s not giving up that easily. Luckily the universe helps him along.

Remy groaned, a low buzzing noise pulling him from sleep. His hand searched blindly around the floor next to his mattress until he found his phone. Sighing, he brought it to his ear, blindly accepting the call, “Hey girl, hey?”

“Thank God! Remy, It’s Laura.”

“Mmhm, wazzup gurl?” Remy replied sleepily, barely taking note of the urgency in the woman’s voice. He received calls from the high school theater teacher from time to time. Having been a theater kid himself, he occasionally visited a the department the few times he stopped by to see his dad, and over time Laura had taken to calling him whenever she needed an extra hand with classes or set design.

“Sleep, I need you to distance yourself from your nickname for a minute, alright? My assistant is out sick, and we have an open house after school for incoming students. Can you please, PLEASE come and watch over rehearsal after school?”

Remy yawned widely, rolling off his mattress with a soft ‘thud’ before making himself sit up, “Sure thing, sweets, I’ve got no appointments today,” he paused, “I think.”

Laura groaned, “Remyyyyyy.”

“Calm yo tits, let me see here,” he rustled through the mess beside his mattress, tossing aside trash and wrinkled shirts and empty bottles until he managed to pull out his laptop, quickly opening it up and clicking on his calendar. “Hmmmmmm….”

“So?” Laura asked nervously.

“Hmmmmmmmm…..”

“REMY.”

He laughed, “Chill, girl, I’m free today.”

“Oh thank God,” She sighed in relief, “So I’ll see you in an hour?”

“An hour?? You said you needed me after school!”

“….Rem… it’s 1:30.”

“Oh shit, really?” Glancing at his clock, he saw that it was indeed early afternoon, “Damn, I crashed harder than I thought. Good thing I’m free today.” Groaning, he finally stood up, his back popping as he stretched, “Alright, see you soon I guess.”

“Thank you, Sleepyhead,” Laura teased.

Remy grumbled out a goodbye as he hung up, rubbing a hand over his face before he reluctantly rushed to get ready.

~~~

When he arrived, Remy was a bit of a mess, hair thrown up in a sloppy bun, wearing a tattered cropped sweatshirt with his standard patched jeans and taped together shoes, and holding two Starbucks cups- one empty and one close to it.

“Sleep, you’re a lifesaver,” Laura gave him a quick hug as he entered the auditorium.

“Oh I know, sweetheart,” Remy teased as the teacher rolled her eyes.

“Save the sass for the students,” she said, shaking her head fondly as she gathered her bag and a clipboard, “Okay, the kids all know what they’re doing- We’re trying to finish the main backdrop today, and the actors are _supposed_ to be off-script, so they’re practicing line run-throughs, but we haven’t finished all the blocking so don’t worry about that. I literally just need you to make sure they don’t kill each other, the middle schoolers, or my dream.”

“I can only assure two of those things, take your pick.”

“ _Sleep_.”

“Alright, alright,” he waved her off, “Go convince the little ones not to drop out, I’ll make sure nothing burns down.”

“Seriously, Remy, thank you.”

“Uh huh,” he waved his fingers at Laura’s back as she ran off. Tossing the empty Starbucks cup in the trash and gulping down the rest of the remaining drink, Remy glanced around the familiar auditorium. Theater had been a good part of high school he supposed. He acted occasionally, giving everything he did a dramatic flair and appreciating the chance to be someone else. But he’d always gotten the most enjoyment from set design. Painting backdrops and intricate props, creating a whole world within the confines of the school. If he hadn’t been so drawn to tattoo art, he probably would have pursued that further.

Just as Laura promised, the students knew what they were supposed to be doing, and for the most part stuck to their assignments. There was definitely a little bit of goofing off, but Remy only spoke up if it looked like they were going to damage something. Groups of young pre-teens and their parents filtered in and out, a teacher occasionally guiding them through to talk about the school’s art programs. Remy ignored them, keeping one eye on the high schoolers and one on his phone.

But of course, his peace was short lived.

“No. way.”

A voice exclaimed behind him, and Remy froze. It couldn’t be…

“Remy! It _is_ you! This is crazy, what are the odds!!”

It could.

Turning around, Remy found himself face to face with a certain short, orange haired client. Toby was grinning widely, eyes glimmering with excitement while an even shorter punk kid with dark green hair stood next to him, blinking at Remy curiously.

The artist felt his jaw drop, “What the ever loving fuck are _you_ doing here??”

Toby gasped dramatically, reaching over to cover the ears of the kid next to him, “Remy!! There are CHILDREN here!”

The kid giggled, “hehehe…  _fuck._ ”

“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

Remy sputtered, eyes widening and hands flailing uncertainly before the kid rolled their eyes, shoving October away, “Toby, you cuss all the time! _I_ cuss all the time!”

“Yeah, but it’s the principle of the matter,” he grinned.

Looking between the two, Remy raised an eyebrow, “Okay, wait, no, back up. I still don’t know what you’re going here. And who’s the baby punk?”

Toby’s face split into a wide grin, and he immediately grabbed the kid by the waist, hoisting them up into the air proudly as they squeaked in surprise, “This is Talyn! They’re my amazing super cool baby sibling and we’re here for the open house because they’re going to be in HIGH SCHOOL next year! Can you believe it? They grow up so fast!”

“Toby!” Talyn whined, squirming desperately in the air, “Put me down!”

Despite his best efforts, Remy couldn’t help but snicker as he watched the siblings interact. Toby finally set Talyn back on the ground, the middle schooler huffing indignantly. Turning back to the tattoo artist, Toby raised a questioning eyebrow, “But the real question is, what are YOU doing here?”

Remy shrugged, “I help out the theater teacher sometimes. Apparently this open house thing had her stretched a little thin, so she called in reinforcements,” he gestured to himself smugly.

“Awwwww, that’s actually pretty sweet-”

“HEY! What did I tell you assholes about messing with the lights during rehearsal??” Remy screeched at the group of students flickering colored spotlights on an off. They quickly scattered, Remy huffing and glaring after them while Toby snorted in amusement.

“You’re good with kids too? I’m about to swoon,” he put the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically.

“Gross. Swoon on your own time,” Talyn snarked.

Remy giggled, “You’re not bad kid. I can already tell you’re cooler than your brother.”

“Damn straight.”

“Hey!” Toby pouted indignantly, “I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now!”

“I’ve been attacking you since we met, I don’t know why you’re still expecting a good time with me,” Remy replied coldly.

Even Talyn seemed a little surprised at his tone. Toby frowned, and was about to respond, but before he got a chance, a loud voice shouted excitedly at them.

“Tally!!”

Suddenly, two young figures sprinted over, tackling Talyn and nearly knocking them over. After their initial shriek of surprise, all three laughed, one of them rambling enthusiastically, “Talyn, the science department is so cool!! Apparently if I take a couple AP classes then senior year they have a class on chemical engineering!”

“You’re such a nerd,” Talyn laughed.

“Hey, Remy!”

Turning around, Remy externally smiled but internally sighed at how he was managing to run into every person who new his name today, “Hey Patton-cake, fancy meeting you here!”

The pastel punk skipped over, a shy looking goth(-ish) kid trailing behind him, “I didn’t know you were helping out today!”

“Neither did I until like two hours ago.”

“Oh, where are my manners,” Patton linked arms with the other teen, “Remy, this is my friend Elliot! Elliot, this is Remy, he’s the tattoo artist who does all of Logan and Virgil’s stuff!”

Elliot gave a small smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“And this-” Patton grabbed the two kids chatting with Talyn, “is my brother Thomas, and Elliot’s sibling Joan! They’re here for the open house!”

“Oh, hey!” Toby grinned at them, “I’m one of Talyn’s brothers! It’s so nice to finally meet you guys!”

Patton gasped dramatically, releasing Thomas and Joan, “Is this October?? We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Bad things,” Talyn chimed in, “I trash talk you all the time.”

“You looooove meeeeeee.”

“You shut your dirty mouth.”

“Alright, enough of this heartwarming bullshit,” Joan piped up, ignoring Elliot and Patton scolding him in the background, “While Thomas was busy being a nerd, I found out this school was a _rap_ club!”

“You like rap?”

“It’s word association games but with RHYTHM!”

“How is that any less nerdy than my stuff?”

“You know,” Patton chimed in, “You and Logan should hang out sometime!”

Elliot immediately pulled Joan into a dramatic protective embrace, “NO they should NOT!”

Patton frowned, “Why not? You and Logan are friends, you know he’s cool.”

Joan grinned mischievously, “They’re just afraid I’ll spill all the details of their crush on hi-”

They were cut off as Elliot pulled Joan’s bright orange beanie down to cover their face, turning to glare at Patton despite the fiery blush on their face, “I have my reasons,” they deadpanned.

Patton giggled, and was about to respond when Remy cut in, “OKAY, you are all very cute little babies-” he announced, ignoring the indignant cries of the three middle schoolers, “but shouldn’t you all be off doing open house stuff? If you’re not going to sign up for the theater department newsletter then getthefuckout.”

Toby and Patton both covered their siblings’ ears as they gasped, but Talyn, Thomas, and Joan were already pulling away, “Come on Talyn, have you seen all the club booths yet?”

“No, Toby got distracted by his crush.”

“Hey!” “Ew.” Toby and Remy responded simultaneously.

Patton chuckled, “Come on, we’ll chaperone Talyn so you guys can chat a bit more! Just meet us in the East hallway whenever you’re done.”

“Noooooo,” Remy whined dramatically, while Toby lit up and thanked Patton, giving Talyn one last hug before promising to meet up again soon. Remy crossed his arms as the group left him and Toby next to the stage, “Dude, seriously, what is your deal?”

Toby shrugged, “What? I ran into you and I want to hang out a bit. Talyn was probably getting sick of me bragging about them to everyone within arms reach anyway.”

“None of that answered my question of _what is your deal?_ ”

“It…didn’t?” Toby squinted, legitimately confused. But before either could continue, a bright red-headed teen suddenly appeared from behind Remy.

“Why helloooo there,” the teen was only a little shorter than Remy, a long flowing coat around him and an excessive amount of jewelry glinting in the light. He smiled excitedly, “Remy, how dare you not come and greet me immediately upon your arrival!” He gestured dramatically as he spoke.

“Indoor drama voice, Roman, I’m still caffeinating,” Remy looked down at his empty Starbucks cup solemnly.

“It is 3:30 in the afternoon,” Roman looked incredulously. Toby chuckled at their antics, drawing Roman’s attention to him.

The teen looked him up and down, smirking sassily as he leaned an elbow on Remy’s shoulder, “Ooooh, and who is this fine shot of water?”

“A menace.”

“My name’s Toby,” the other man snickered, “I’m a friend of Remy’s.”

“He’s a client who I think might be stalking me.”

“I’m a client the universe keeps pushing towards him,” he put a hand over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes at Roman, “we’re practically star-crossed lovers.”

Remy could practically see stars light up in Roman’s eyes at the idea of some fabled romance and it was _beyond_ unfair that Toby somehow managed to exploit one of the young punk’s passions mere moments after meeting him.

“ _I’m_ more crossed than any bitchass stars,” Remy snapped, pulling Roman from his stupor as he and Toby blinked at him, startled, “I am not going to stand here like a damsel while you prattle on about some ridiculous fairytale romance bullshit-”

“You’re supervising a rehearsal for ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’?” Roman tried to interrupt.

Remy didn’t even slow down, “No Ma’am. No Ma’am! This is a big school, stop messing with me and go look at educational shit with your sibling. And you,” He rounded on the red-headed teen, “I know for a fact you were tasked with making sure that snake kid doesn’t interact with the middle schoolers.”

Toby jumped as a kid with a bright yellow mohawk suddenly burst out from behind the curtains on stage, “I’ve never done anything wrong ever in my life!!”

“I WON’T HESITATE, BITCH!” Remy shrieked in reply, causing the teenager to immediately duck backstage again. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Remy huffed, turning and stalking away, “I have _not_ had enough caffeine for this.”

As he stomped away, still grumbling to himself, Roman and Toby stayed behind, exchanging a glance as they watched Remy leave.

~~~~~

When Remy returned to the auditorium ten minutes later, Toby was nowhere to be found, and Roman was on stage going over his lines with another student.

Sighing in relief, he moved to lean against the wall in the back where he could keep an eye on the whole room fairly easily. The afternoon passed swiftly after that, no one bothering Remy except for the few times a student approached with a question. When Laura came to release him from his duties, Remy thought he was finally gonna be home free. He was heading down the hallway absentmindedly, more than ready to finally go home, when for what felt like the millionth time that day, he heard someone calling his name.

“Remy!”

But this voice almost had him tripping over his own feet, wholly unprepared to deal with his father running up to him with a large smile on his face.

“Sleepyhead, I didn’t know you were coming in today!” Emile Picani threw his arms around his child enthusiastically, Remy patting his back awkwardly before pulling away.

“Uh, yeah, Laura asked me to come in, it was pretty last minute.”

The older man smiled sadly, “You should have come and said hello!”

Remy rubbed his neck sheepishly, “I figured you’d be busy with the open house and stuff…”

“You know my door’s always open for you,” Picani assured, “Well, since you’re here, are you free tonight? We need to catch up!”

“Oh, sorry, actually,” Remy shook his head apologetically, “I’m covering a shift for Ali tonight. Apparently everyone needs me today,” he joked.

Remy almost caved when he saw Picani deflate a little, but the counselor quickly put his cheery expression back on, “Aw, well I understand! Text me and let me know when you’re free though!”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Remy nodded. There was a moment of awkward silence before Remy began backing away, gesturing towards the exit, “Well, uh, I should get going…”

“Oh, of course!” Picani waved, “Stay safe! Don’t be a stranger, okay?” His words were soft, and Remy almost flinched.

“Yup. See you around,” Remy swiftly turned on his heel, practically running for the door before anyone could get a chance to try call his name again.

~~

Remy sighed in relief as he closed the door behind him, home at last. The day had been long, and he’d had to talk to far too many people. It was barely 6pm and he was already ready to fall into bed and pass out. Toeing off his shoes and pulling off his sweatshirt, kicking both to the side lazily, he made his way towards his bed.

Before he could collapse onto his blankets though, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Groaning loudly, he fell face down onto his mattress. Who the fuck wanted to talk to him _now_? Reluctantly, he pulled the device from his back pocket just as it buzzed a second time.

Bringing the device to his face to check the messages, he almost immediately screeched, rolling over and straight off the mattress, landing on the floor with a thud.

Sitting up quickly, he looked at the phone again certain he must have hallucinated it.

But no. There, staring back at him, was a selfie of October and Talyn, the younger one sporting a large black sweatshirt with the high school’s mascot on the front. Both were smiling, Toby pulling his sibling close to his face as he grinned proudly. Beneath the picture was a text: _They’re gonna rule this school!! #powersiblings_

Remy was gaping. His eyes were starting to burn from staring wide-eyed and unblinking at the screen.

Toby had his number. October had his number. His client, who he kept running into everywhere and who kept trying to talk to him and act friendly and clearly had some kind of ulterior motive, had his number and sent him a text. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to respond to this? How had this even happened??

His fingers raced across the keyboard.

 **Sleepyhead:** _What_

 **Sleepyhead:** _Whatwhatwhat_

 **Sleepyhead:** _How_

 **Sleepyhead:** _No_

 **Sleepyhead:** _HOW??_

October doesn’t type a reply. All he sends is a selfie of himself and Roman, the steampunk boy winking while Toby smirked and flashed a peace sign.

~~~~~~

_“What was that about?” Roman huffed, putting his hands on his hips, “I haven’t seen Remy that worked up since someone told them neon jackets weren’t flattering on them.”_

 

 

Toby sighed, “I can’t quite figure it out either. We got along really well at first! Then he just started pushing me away. I think I must have done something to scare him off,” he let his head fall back dramatically as he practically wailed, “But I like himmmmmmm.”

Roman snorted, but quickly turned serious, “Looks, I’m a hopeless romantic, and this is all very sweet, but… You know Remy is aro, right?”

To his surprise, Toby nodded, “And ace, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Roman confirmed.

Toby gave another nod, “Yeah, I noticed the patches on his bag last time I was at the shop. I won’t lie, I **would** totally be down to date Remy. But even if that’s not an option, I still... **like** them. It doesn’t change that I still want to get to know them better, even just as friends.”

“….”

“…kid are you crying??”

Roman sniffed, wiping at his eyes, makeup smearing slightly but he couldn’t bring himself to care, “That’s just so sweet, I want to write a musical about you!”

“Please don’t.”

“Honestly though,” Roman’s tone turned slightly somber, “this is kind of just…. Something Remy does. It’s nothing personal about you, they kind of tend to hold everyone at arm’s length. I’m pretty sure the only reason me and my friends get away with being halfway-close with him is because we’re high schoolers so he can convince himself that we don’t ‘count’. He probably thinks we’re gonna grow out of him soon.”

Toby frowned, clearly concerned, and Roman found himself rooting for this man. He’d always thought Remy could use a friend. A real friend.

Sighing, Toby looked at the ground in contemplation, “I don’t want to corner him or anything, but if I could just talk to him more without him running off I’m sure I could get through to him!”

Suddenly, Roman felt a light bulb flick on in his head, and he grinned mischievously.

_“Give me your phone.”_

~~~~

Remy wanted to scream.

Before he could figure out whether to copy and paste a restraining order or just destroy his phone all together, another text came through.

This time, Toby wasn’t in the picture at all. Talyn stood in the center of the frame, holding their arms out to show how the school sweater they wore covered their hands. The follow up text read _“Too smol for a small”_.

Despite himself, a breathy giggle escaped Remy, the frantic fury in his chest lessening and a vague confusion taking its place. Part of him had assumed that if the strangely persistent client got a hold of his number, Remy would be overrun with fuckboi messages and dick pics. But when yet another message came through a few minutes later, the picture only showed Joan dramatically dipping Thomas towards the ground while Talyn looked into the camera like they were on The Office. Toby’s only comment was _“Adorable little bastards”_

Crawling back onto his mattress, he kept his eyes on the images in front of him as he debated what to do next. He was woefully unprepared for this situation. Toby sent a few more picture over the next half hour, mostly of Talyn and their friends, and eventually a text that just read _“the moms are home so time to split”_ and another immediately after saying _“the cats are going to be so mad at being fed 15mins late”_.

Remy was still staring at his phone when it chimed ten minutes later, _“I FUCKING CALLED IT”_ with an angry cat emoji next to it. His fingers hovered over the keys, typing a few letters before rushing to delete them. Fuck. What was he supposed to say here? Type. Delete. Type. Delete. Fuck.

 **Sleepyhead:** _Go to bed, nerd_

That was dumb. He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. At least Toby would stop messaged him now. That was….good.

Then his phone chimed.

_Goodnight Remy! <3_

He felt his breath rush out in a shallow exhale. He hesitated a few more minutes.

_Goodnight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA in regards to Roman's life choices: Please don't give your friends' numbers to strangers so they can woo them. That's fun in fanfic, not in life. Hoe don't do it.


	6. Come With Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy blinks, and suddenly Toby has managed to weave himself into their life. And they’re not sure that’s a good thing.

Remy groaned as their phone buzzed next to their ear. They half-heartedly shoved it off the bed, hearing it land with a soft ‘thud’. However the buzzing continued. Sighing in annoyance, they pushed themselves up onto one arm, reaching over to retrieve their phone and unlock it to see a long string of messages waiting for them.

 **DocOct:** _Remy_

 **DocOct:** _Remyyyyy_

 **DocOct:** _Sleepyhead_

 **DocOct:** _Do you want a dog?_

 **DocOct:** _Remy do you want a dog?_

 **DocOct:** _I have a dog if you want a dog_

The final message was an image of Toby, most of his body and face hidden by the large smiling husky he held in his arms, a slight blur around the animal as the dog wiggled happily.

Remy raised an eyebrow, hoping that Toby could sense it.

 **Sleepyhead:** _What about me gave you the impression that I should be in charge of any living thing ever?_

 **DocOct:** _…_

 **DocOct:** _touche_

Snorting, Remy sat up, resigned to starting the day. Looking at the time, they saw it was only a half hour before their alarm was set to go off at noon. They had an appointment at one, so at least that gave them a little time to get ready slowly and get some caffeine in them. Their phone was buzzing again, but coffee first.

Forty-five minutes later, as Remy was walking out of a Starbucks ready to down their second cup since waking up, they suddenly remembered the messages waiting for them. Taking a long sip of coffee, they unlocked their phone to see what else October had sent them.

 **DocOct:** _I just want Hermione to be adopted by someone I know_

 **DocOct:** _so I can see her all the time_

 **DocOct:** _my boss wont let me take her_

 **DocOct:** _apparently I’ve “reached the maximum number of animals allotted per employee” :(_

 **DocOct:** _also I don’t have a yard_

 **DocOct:** _did you fall back asleep?_

Remy shook their head as they typed out a reply.

 **Sleepyhead:** _I have a job you know_

 **DocOct:** _you could still be asleep_

 **DocOct:** _I literally met you when you were asleep at work_

 **Sleepyhead:** _you come into MY HOUSE_

The bell chimed above them as they entered the shop, Ali glancing up from the front desk and grinning, “Hey, look who’s on time today! If you can manage to do that one more time we’ll have to use two hands to count it.”

“Ha, ha,” Remy drawled, rolling their eyes, “Be grateful I grace you with my presence at all.”

“You’re literally paid to be here.”

“Not enough, I’m not,” Remy winked, and Ali laughed, shaking her head good naturedly.

“Go get ready for your appointment, asshole.”

Tossing their jacket and bag onto the chair in their station, Remy’s phone buzzed again, and they texted absentmindedly as they set up their supplies for the next appointment.

The day passed the same as always. Remy tattooed a watercolor owl on a young woman’s shoulder, Brett and Rafa argued in the background over hot sauce brands, Ali harped on Remy to update their portfolio, and Cass got roped into picking up their lunch order. The only thing different was that when Remy’s phone buzzed on their table from time to time, Remy actually responded whenever they had a chance throughout the day.

This fact did not escape Cass’ attention, the petite woman peeking over the dividing wall and between their stations near the end of the night as Remy’s phone vibrated again.

“Someone’s popular today,” she hummed with a devious look in her eye.

“Bitch, I’m popular everyday,” Remy raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge, which she gladly took up.

She skipped out of her cubicle and came to stand at the front of Remy’s station, “Oh come on, you never get this many texts, and you _definitely_ never respond so timely. I once texted you to ask if you could cover a shift and you texted me back two weeks later.”

Remy frowned, “Hey, you gotta earn my attention hon,” they waved their hand dismissively, “I got places to be, things to do. No time for chitchat.”

“You’ve got time for _someone_ ,” Cass glanced pointedly at Remy’s phone, “Somebody finally tame the shrew?”

“Ew, don’t use Shakespeare to insult me.”

“I’m not insulting you!”

“And I’m not two seconds from keying your car,” Remy smirked, “See? Saying things is easy.”

Cass rolled her eyes, moving to walk back into her station, “Are you nicer to your penpal, or are they just a masochist?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll wise up soon,” Remy hums with a smile, turning back to their computer. The conversation ends, and both artists return to their work, but Remy is a little slower in responding to their phone for the rest of the day.

~

Eventually, night falls. The shop is closed up and Remy’s coworkers go for a drink that Remy declines to join in on. As the group disappears around the corner, Remy leans against the wall next to the shop, sighing and pulling out a cigarette. They don’t really know what they want to do. Cityscape doesn’t appeal the way it normally does, but the idea of returning to their apartment makes them pull out a second cigarette moments after finishing the first.

They’re debating just wandering the city without a destination when their phone buzzes in their pocket.

 **DocOct:** _This bar is so weird_

 **DocOct:** _Like SO WEIRD_

 **DocOct:** _It’s terrible_

 **DocOct:** _Come join me_

The next text is an address.

Remy exhales the smoke in their mouth slowly, considering their options. Their fingers tap anxiously against the phone, and Cass’ words ring in their head. They’re not dumb. They know this isn’t going to end well.

 **Sleepyhead:** _Weird bars are the best ;P be there in 10_

But they don’t want to go home, either.

~~~~

“What the FUCK Octagon?”

Snapping his head up from where he was leaning against the bartop in boredom, Toby’s face split into a wide grin, “Remy! You’re here!”

“Yeah and I can already tell it was a mistake!” They put their hands on their hips, eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is this place? Why is there weird anime being projected on the wall? Why are there cosplayers? Where the fuck am I??”

Toby laughed heartily, “It’s a popup bar for some anime I can’t pronounce that came out a while ago.”

“Do you watch said anime?”

“Nah.”

“Then _why are we here?_ ”

“Well~,” He drew the word out as he smirked, “ _I’m_ here, because one of my coworkers and I are playing “popup bingo” and this gets me one square closer to winning a wholesale bulk box of lint rollers-”

“There is so much to unpack there-”

“-but _you_ ,” he twirled his finger as he pointed at Remy, not allowing them to detract the situation, “are here because you wanted to see me~.”

 _That_ had Remy’s thoughts screeching to a halt.

“That is just, just blatantly untrue!!” Remy stuttered out, pouting dramatically, “I came because you said the word ‘bar’ and alcohol is a thing I enjoy.”

“You could have gone to any bar, though,” damn him and that stupid pretty smile, “but you came to _this_ one because it’s where I said I was.”

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK

Remy relaxed their shoulders, bringing one hand to rest on the bar and tilting their head to the side, very consciously putting on their best “cool and casual” air.

“I _came_ for the trainwreck,” they smiled innocently, “I haven’t found a reason to _stay_ though.”

They made an exaggerated show of turning around and slowly walking away. Finally Toby sighed loudly.

“Fiiiiine I’ll buy the first round.”

Remy spun back around on their heel, grinning victoriously, “A man after my own heart.”

“Damn straight.”

“Just for that you’re buying me two drinks.”

Toby laughed, not looking particularly perturbed at the situation, “Two drinks but one of them is a beer.”

“Deal,” Remy slid into the seat next to Toby at the bar.

~~~~

“I need to move to a different shop.”

“Like HELL you are,” Remy wasn’t sure how Ali even heard the statement he had muttered under his breath, but she came rushing in from the staff break room, glaring at the taller punk, “You aren’t going anywhere until you get through your current scheduled appointments! You made a blood oath!”

“What? When??”

“Remember that time you were so tired you accidentally stapled your hand instead of the client forms?”

“That’s not a blood oath!”

“You bled for the shop, the pact is sealed.”

“Uh…..” Toby raised his hand slowly from where he stood just inside the front door, drawing the attention of the two tattoo artists, “I can come back later? Patton said your shift ended at seven on Wednesdays…”

“Goddammit Patton,” Remy cursed, “he should know better than to give my schedule out to stalkers.”

“He does.”

“He ships it.”

“And _besides,_ ” he pointedly ignored Cass’ comment, “my shifts not over ye-”

“Oh yes it is,” Ali chimed in.

Remy whipped his head to look at his boss in betrayal, “Excuse me? Two seconds ago you were talking about how you owned my ass or something so I could never leave.”

“You can’t stop working here,” she clarified, “but you can leave when your shift is over. Which it is.”

“But I’m still doing stuff!” Remy gestured to the sketchbook in front of him.

Ali crossed her arms stubbornly, “You’ve done your work for the day, and you’ve already got overtime this week. Go have fun with your fan boy.”

Rolling his eyes, Remy stood and roughly shoved his things into his bag, “You know, you’re my boss. You don’t have to make dumb excuses when you’re sick of me.”

“Remy-” Ali called after him, but he was already heading out the door.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock, see you tomorrow~,” he sang as he slipped out of the shop.

He heard the bell chime a second time and footsteps jog to catch up with him, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Toby said quietly, remorse heavy in his voice.

Part of him wanted to snap at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to prattle about how if Toby really didn’t want to cause trouble then he should get lost, how he’d been nothing _but_ trouble since day one, how of course there was going to be trouble when he kept showing up and Remy still didn’t know _why_.

But…

The words died on his tongue. A different part of him whispered that he didn’t really mind Toby’s brand of trouble.

So instead, Remy grinned and bumped his hip against Toby, “~I knew you were trouble when you walked in~”

He barked out a laugh, “So shame on me~.”

Remy rolling his eyes, shaking his head fondly as Toby chuckled. After about a block Toby spoke up, “Sooooo,” he drawled, “Where are we going?”

“What’s with all this ‘we’ business? I am a Goddamn island, hon.”

“Well call me Castaway,” Toby purred, sliding closer to Remy’s side.

“Prepare to starve, bitch.”

“WILSONNNNNNN-”

“Jesus Christ, shutthefuckup!” Remy shoved Toby’s shoulder, cutting off his dramatic wail. Remy ran a hand over his face, trying to look exasperated even as he struggled to hide his smile, “If I let you come with me will you stop making movie references?”

“For now,” he smirked mischievously.

Remy rolled his eyes, “That’s the best I’m gonna get, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Toby’s mouth popped around the end of the word and Remy snorted.

“There’s a club that just opened near River West,” he shoved his hands in his pockets was he walked, “I’ve been planning to check it out, see if it’s worth adding to my nightlife rotation. No reason not to do so tonight I guess.”

The shorter punk grinned enthusiastically, “Cool! Sounds fun!”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Oh! I just remembered, I have to tell you about this rabbit that we got in today-”

The two walked through the city together, crossing the bridge to the west side of downtown as Toby rambled about his day and the animals they received and the ones given to new homes. Remy hummed in response, smoked a cigarette, offered his priceless sass- for free, nonetheless- so by the time they reached the club Remy felt entitled to a little good karma.

What they got, though, was a plain brick building with a single neon sign and a few groups of drunk teens loitering outside.

“Well,” Remy pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head, “I will admit, this is not a promising start.”

“The… the sign just says “Club”,” Toby commented, pointing to the one word neon sign.

“That’s…” it took a moment for Remy to think of a word, “….succinct.”

“You filtered through a lot of worse words before landing on that one, didn’t you.”

“Shut up and let’s go inside.”

The security barely spared them a glance as they made their way in. Remy squinted at the dim lighting, the flashing lights around the dance floor too dull to really illuminate anything. Meanwhile Toby crinkled his nose as he felt his shoes stick to the floor a little, “You said this place just opened, right? How are their floors already so gross?”

“What the hell is this music?”

“It’s freezing in here, did they bother insulating the building at all?”

Remy made a face of disgust, “I need a drink, STAT.”

“Or maybe we could just go somewhere else?” Toby suggested as they made their way over to the bar.

“Not without some alcohol in my veins we’re not,” he pouted as he pushed his way to the front, ordering a tequila shot as Toby stood behind him. “I’m off work, that means I get to finally have some fun,” he paid for his shot quickly, turning back to face the other punk.

Toby shook his head fondly, “You need a hobby.”

“I have a hobby!”

“Drinking isn’t a hobby.”

“No, it’s a game and I’m winning.”

“That’s called alcoholism. Also you still need a hobby.”

Remy smirked sharply, “You can get your own hobby if you have such a problem with mine,” he stared Toby in the eye as he downed the shot, pointedly ignoring the chaser.

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “I don’t have a problem with it,” he raised an eyebrow, “I just think you could stand to get out more. Get a change of scenery,” he grinned mischievously, “If nothing else it would make _my_ hobby or tagging along with you more interesting.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives,” Remy shook his head, laughing lightly. Looking around, he scrunched his nose as he took in the mass of people dancing overly risque in the center of the room, “Ugh. How are they dancing to this trash? Moreso, how are they still keeping up the weird sexy shit? How is this bizzare techno-country garbage not an instant mood killer? Allosexuals make no sense.”

“Hey, I’m confused too. I admire their tenacity though?” he replied uncertainly.

“I don’t. I am judging very harshly.”

“That’s your default though. It’s like you have resting judgy face except it’s not just your face.”

“Damn straight,” Remy flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer, “This is not the kind of club you experience sober.”

Snorting, Toby leaned against the bar next to him. Once his drink arrived, they both stayed by the bar, neither wanting to venture out onto the floor. Remy sipped on his drink, and after a few minutes Toby took out his phone and began tapping on the screen nonchalantly. When the first beer was finished, Remy wasted no time ordering another. Turning to October, Remy shook his head and tsked, “You are at a club surrounded by beautiful people,” he gestured mostly to himself, “and you’re on your phone? Honestly, you look like a baby boomer meme right now.” Toby’s only response was to turn and stick his tongue out, Remy giggling as he took his beer from the bartender, “Seriously girl, what’s got your attention so fixed? You sexting over there?”

That made Toby pause, his fingers hovering over the screen as he turned to look at Remy with a deadpan expression, “You literally could not be more wrong about what is happening here.”

Remy raised an eyebrow suspiciously as he took a long drink. Toby rolled his eyes as he turned back to his phone, but his lips were twitching towards a smile. The night was young, so Remy felt fine chugging his beer in an attempt to speed things along.

However, that plan was soon foiled. As he neared the bottom of the bottle, Toby gasped loudly, Remy choking a bit on his drink in surprise. He was still coughing and sputtering as Toby smacked at his arm to get his attention.

“Dude, holy shit there’s a pikachu like two blocks away we gotta go!!”

“Excuse me??”

Toby ignored his bewilderment, instead grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Once they reached the door, Toby released him in favor of sprinting down the street. Later, Remy would question what happened next, unable to find any logical reason for why he did what he did.

He ran after him.

Darting down the street, his long legs caught up quickly, allowing him to jog a few feet behind Toby as he raced down the sidewalk. After a couple blocks, he skidded to a stop, Remy nearly running into him as he quickly started tapping at his phone. Panting lightly, Remy glanced over his shoulder.

Pokemon Go was open on the screen, a pikachu standing in an image of the dark street in front of them. Toby muttered softly to himself, “Do not run away, do not run away, do NOT run away…” as he tossed a pokeball at the creature.

Remy’s eyebrows were practically in his hairline, “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Shhhhh!! I need to focus!” Toby hissed, tossing various items at the pikachu after it escaped the pokeball a second time. Finally, after a few minutes, the pikachu was sucked into the pokeball and stayed there, tiny stars erupting on the screen at the success.

“YES!!” Toby threw his hands in the air in excitement, “Holy shit! I’ve wanted a pikachu for forever! I have to text Talyn, this is awesome!”

“….what year is this?” Remy stated in amazement, “Pokemon Go is still a thing? What? I feel like I’m hallucinating, like was there something in my drink?”

Toby blinked at him in surprise before grinning widely, “Others may have abandoned their quest, but I never will! It’s not enough to _want_ to be the very best, you gotta _work_ for it.”

Remy snorted, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re a nerd. Like, such a nerd. I don’t even know what to do with this information. I’m going back to the club where people make sense.”

“Oh come on,” Toby skipped in front of him to block his path as he tried to walk away, “that club sucked and you know it.”

“I know no such thing,” Remy crossed his arms and pouting, his face clearly illustrating that he did in fact know such a thing.

“The music sucked and the drinks were subpar and overpriced. I’m pretty sure most of the people there were underage and didn’t even need fake IDs to get in. And you can try to deny it, but you would have left within half an hour even if I hadn’t run off. Your standards are too high.”

Fuck. He had Remy there. “You’re…. Not wrong….” Remy grumbled.

“Here, hold on…” Toby looked down at his phone, tapping a few times before stating, “there’s a bar I’ve been wanting to check out for a while that’s about half a mile away. We can go there instead!”

Remy frowned, “Can’t we go somewhere closer?”

“This place has really good reviews, and I heard they do fun cocktails. It’s not _that_ far. Pleeeeeease?” Toby pleaded, hands clasped together as he bat his eyelashes up at the taller punk.

Rolling his eyes, Remy shoved him away lightly, “Alright, okay, we can go to your dumb bar.”

“Yes!” Toby threw his hands up in success, “We’ll be there in no time, half a mile isn’t that far. And it’s such a nice night!” He gestured to the cool air around them, not too hot or too cold, with clear skies above them. Remy hummed in agreement, as they began walking.

At first they walked in casual silence, Toby occasionally glancing at his phone while Remy lit a cigarette. But, by the end of that one single cigarette, Remy’s boredom and restlessness hit.

The tattoo artist groaned, hunching over in exaggerated exhaustion, “Ugh, we’ve been walking for forever-”

Toby rolled his eyes, “It’s been less than ten minutes-”

“-and we’ve passed like four bars already!”

“-well, we’re going to a specific one, so-”

“What exactly is this place anyway?” Remy leaned over to look at Toby’s phone, but he pulled the device to his chest to hide the screen.

“You’ll see when we get there!”

Remy narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The two stared at each other, each daring the other to make a move. After a moment of consideration, Remy nodded to himself. Then he lunged for the phone. Toby shrieked in surprise, twisting as Remy’s arms flailed around him, batting at his hands and stumbling as Remy leaned his weight on him. Desperately, he tried to scramble away, holding the phone out at arms length, but it was useless against the taller punk. Remy stretched his arm out, snatching Toby’s phone from his hand and quickly skipping away, leaving Toby to regain his balance.

Looking down at the screen Toby had tried so hard to hide, Remy gasped dramatically, whipping his head around to send Toby a look of betrayal, “You were just making us walk so you could hatch a pokemon egg??”

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “We only need to go a little farther! And I mean, I was planning on taking us to a bar afterwards, so I didn’t _really_ lie-”

“Yes you did!! You tricked me! Into _exercising!!_ ” Remy clutched his chest with a wounded expression on his face, and Toby snorted as he suddenly remembered that Remy was a theater kid. “Don’t laugh! You dragged me through the city-”

“It was less than half a mile! We’re literally still in the same neighborhood!”

“-and now I’m half-sober! I am half-sober and _awake_ , October! Those are my two least favorite things!”

Seeing that Remy was distracted by his own monologue, Toby darted forward and snatched his phone back, “Alright drama queen, tell you what. Let me finish hatching this egg- which will take like three minutes, _maybe_ \- and I’ll buy the next round,” he grinned lopsidedly, “as an apology for deceiving you.”

Remy didn’t think he sounded sorry at all, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he considered the offer. After a moment, he crossed his arms and huffed, “Fine.”

Almost immediately Toby’s grin was replaced with a look of something between surprise and amazement, “Wait, for real?”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “You promised me alcohol, no backing out now. But I swear if that bitch hatches into a rattata you’re paying for my drinks for the rest of the night.”

Toby let out a bark or laughter, “You know what? That’s fair,” he turned and began walking again, Remy swiftly falling into step beside him.

“So…” Remy drawled with a smirk, “What team are you? And I swear to God if you say ‘Instinct’-” Toby laughed, shoving his shoulder as they continued down the street.

~~~

“You’re not allowed to be weird until I’ve finished caffeinating,” Remy stated before Toby could even say hello.

Snorting, Toby slid into the seat across from Remy at the Starbucks he had found him at, “I’m not falling for that, I know you’re never done caffeinating.”

“Worth a shot,” Remy sighed, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup. Glancing over, he frowned slightly at the dark bruises on under Toby’s eyes, more prominent than they usually were, and that was saying something, “Did you get _any_ sleep last night?”

“I’m getting some right now~”

“First of all, no. Second of all, I woke up to more messages than usual this morning and also you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re goddamn welcome.”

Toby rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. Just insomnia,” he took a long sip of his coffee before continuing, “I’ve dealt with it for forever, some nights are just worse than others.”

“That sucks.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it is what it is, but enough about that! You didn’t answer my texts this morning!” From there, Toby continued his usual shenanigans- asking Remy about his plans for the day, how his night had been, lamenting the dogs being picked up later in the day because “obviously I’m happy they’re going to good homes but I’m going to miss themmmmm”. He leaned forward to put his head in his hand, sighing about how he needed to finish his book and become famous so he could buy a bigger house and adopt every animal. As he did, Remy couldn’t help find his eyes drawn to the tattoo on his left arm.

He had seen it countless times by this point, the rough text still clearly legible as “28:06:42:12”. Sighing to himself, he set his coffee on the table to interrupt Toby’s rambling, “Okay, it’s been driving me crazy. What are the numbers on your arm?”

Toby immediately gasped dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest, “Do NOT tell me you’ve never seen Donnie Darko!!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think I have to at this point.”

“Dude! It’s an amazing sci-fi, crime, mystery, scary type movie!”

“You just listed a lot of genres-”

“It’s my favorite Halloween movie. It’s a cult classic!”

“I have a policy that I don’t get involved in cults I didn’t start.”

“I’m pretty sure the Cult of Sleep is just a coma.”

“That’s the goal at least.”

Toby rolled his eyes, smirking, “While your attempts at changing the subject are valiant, it is in vain,” pulling out his phone, he started typing furiously, “Especially since, as luck would have it, I was planning on going to a midnight showing of Donnie Darko next week. And now…” he stretched the word out, clicking a few more buttons on his phone, before grinning widely, “you’re coming with me!”

Remy blinked in surprise, but sure enough, Toby turned his phone towards him, the words “Thank you for your purchase!” on the screen above information on time and place of the movie.

“….What?”

“It’ll be fun!” Toby slips his phone back into his pocket before clapping his hands in excitement, “It’s so trippy! But like, they’re screening the director’s cut, which is SO much better than the theatrical version, because like certain things will actually make SENSE like why would they cut out- I don’t want to spoil anything but like it was dumb how they-”

“Woahwoahwoah, hold up, gurl,” Remy put his hands up to halt Toby’s lecture, blinking at him in astonishment, “What? I mean you- what if I had plans that night?”

“You never have plans,” Toby raised an eyebrow, “you literally spend every night either at a club, at a bar, or at home.”

“Yeah, I PLAN those things!” Remy insisted, “And did you honestly just buy my ticket? In THIS economy? I can think of a million better ways to spend twelve dollars.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you bat your eyelashes at me!” curse Toby for making him smile. Bastard. “Besides, you know if that’s after I have work then you’ll have to hang out with me sober, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Me. Sober.”

“Remy you’re sober right now!”

“……”

“REMY.”

“Okay, alright, fine I’ll go to the stupid movie!”

“The AMAZING movie.”

“You’re gonna regret this~” Remy sang as he stood, grabbing his bag to make his way out of the shop.

Toby just shook his head, calling after him, “I’ll text you the details!”

~~~~

“What… did I just watch?”

“RIGHT??”

“No, seriously, what just happened?? Did he actually travel through time? So none of that actually happened?”

“It happened AND it didn’t happen!”

“WHAT?!”

Toby laughed as the two of them exited the theater, Remy holding their head in their hands as they tried to comprehend what they had just watched, “You said it was trippy but DAMN son!”

“But you loved it, right? Tell me you loved it,” Toby pleaded.

“….Well now I don’t want to.”

“Remyyyyyyyy.”

Snorting, Remy shook their head, “Okay, fine, I…. maybe enjoyed it just a bit.”

“Yes!” Toby threw a fist in the air victoriously, “I told you it’d be fun! And hey, I had fun too, even _though_ you’re sober.”

He grinned jokingly, and Remy laughed along nervously, nodding in agreement and deciding not to mention that they had a flask of tequila in their bag that they had been sneaking gulps from ever since they got off work. It was the only way they could think of to calm the anxious energy that waxed and waned in them throughout the night.

Remy stretched as they made their way outside and Toby checked his phone, “Hey, you wanna grab a drink or something? You don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

“Um…” Rey glanced to the side. They really could use another drink, but… “Sorry bud, but I think home is calling. Gotta get to bed so I can stare at the ceiling and reevaluate the concept of time,” they smiled lightly, trying to hide the way their stomach was churning.

It must have worked, cause Toby just chuckled, nodding in understanding, “I feel that. Go get some rest and contemplate existence,” he joked, “Brace yourself for when I make you come over so we can watch it again and discuss theories at length,” he winked playfully, which did nothing to settle Remy’s stomach, an uncomfortable familiarity to the situation.

“I’m always bracing myself when you’re involved.”

“Touche.”

~~~~~~~~~

It became familiar. Remy stopped being surprised when Toby showed up at the end of her shift, or at Starbucks when she was getting coffee, or texted her in the middle of the night. He went clubbing or bar hopping with her, and invited her to movie events at the independent theater downtown. She stopped being surprised, but she didn’t stop feeling a sense of dread. Toby approved of Virgil’s concept, he sent an email full of keysmashes when Remy showed him the final line art, and his tattoo appointment loomed closer.

Every time they hung out, even as Remy laughed and smiled, genuinely having fun with the strange client, she still felt a strange pain in her chest. Each night when she finally headed home, refusing to step foot near Toby’s apartment or let him anywhere near hers, she felt like she had dust in her eyes.

She waited for him to get sick of her shit, for him to ask for something she couldn’t give, for him to stop showing up. But he never did, always looking at her so she could practically see the stars in his eyes, acting like he didn’t need anything else. Remy knew it was temporary, though.

When Remy was with Toby, she couldn’t decided if she felt less lonely or more.


	7. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come for Toby to get his tattoo. Remy is overwhelmed by….well, by everything really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: excessive drinking, self esteem issues

5am.

Remy glared at her phone, willing the time to change to something more reasonable. Last night she’d barely slept at all, constantly tossing and turning, drifting off only to jerk awake an hour or so later. Not even a shot of whiskey had helped lull her to sleep.

Sighing, the tattooist finally gave up, tossing the phone aside and sitting up with a groan, stretching her arms over her head. There was an unpleasant churning in Remy’s stomach as she stood. It was almost like nervousness… but obviously that couldn’t be it because there was nothing to be nervous about. People were always hasseling her to eat more and drink things without alcohol, so it was probably just that.

Fixing herself some toast and a glass of orange juice, Remy tried to kill time on her computer- looking over future appointments and upcoming consultations, answering a few emails that she kept forgetting about. But the restlessness only seemed to grow, and by the time light began filtering into the apartment, Remy was dressed, flipping her necklace to the “she” charm as she grabbed her keys and left.

It was quiet outside, only a few cars on the street and no one on the sidewalks. When she stopped by Starbucks for a Venti cold brew, there were only three other customers inside. And when she reached the parlor, Remy realized that she had never opened the shop before.

Pulling out her keys, she found the key to Underground Tattoo Studios easily, the metal shiny with no wear. Brett or Ali were usually the first ones in, while Remy always arrived later in the morning or the afternoon. Remy shook her head. This morning was so weird.

The shop was eerie, and Remy felt like some kind of ghost haunting an abandoned building. Even flipping on the lights as she walked through couldn’t seem to dispel her discomfort. Opening spotify on her phone, Remy clicked on a pop-punk playlist, turning the volume up and sighing as she felt some of the tension slip away. Noise always helped.

The clock read 6:55am as she tossed her empty Starbucks cup in the trash and started the coffee maker they kept in the staff break room, curling up on the couch in the corner. For the next two hours Remy switched off between messing around on her phone and working on sketches.

It actually worked, Remy felt her mind clearing and got caught up in sketching concepts for an upcoming client, unaware of her surroundings until a shriek had her almost falling out of her seat.

In the doorway, Brett had one hand on his chest, the other holding a baseball bat at his side, “Jesus CHRIST, Sleep, you gave me a heart attack!”

“What the fuck dude, why do you have a bat??”

“The door was unlocked and the lights were on, I thought someone broke in!” he exclaimed, leaning the bat against the wall and running a hand through his hair, “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

Brett rolled his eyes at the sass, “Yeah, yeah, but what are you doing here _now_? It’s nine in the morning, we don’t open for another hour and you usually don’t show up till like 10:30 or 11.”

Remy shrugged, closing her sketchbook and stretching out from her cramped position on the couch, “I couldn’t sleep and I got bored.”

“ _You?_ Couldn’t sleep?”

“Oh shut up,” Remy rolled her eyes and stood up, refilling her coffee, “I didn’t realize being here early would cause such a fuss.”

“You’ve worked here for six years and I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve been _on time_ , of course being early is gonna cause a fuss! Shit, come take a selfie with me, I need to tell Rafa about this and he’ll never believe me without proof.”

“You are such a dork,” shaking her head fondly, Remy allowed Brett to throw an arm around her, flipping off the camera as he snapped a picture to send to their coworker. They laughed and chatted some more before Brett got to work setting things up to officially open the shop. With nothing else to do, Remy decided she might as well start prepping for her appointment today. Toby wouldn’t be in for another few hours, but…. still.

She printed out three transfers, each one a slightly different size. Staring down at the design, Remy picked it apart, trying to find a flaw, an error, a mistake. A reason to postpone.

But the image was beautiful. The text flowed nicely, and Virgil’s concept was great, Remy having enjoyed expanding on his initial idea. Maybe Toby would want to change something though. He had been happy when he’d looked at it on his computer, but things are always different in person. Maybe he’d want to make more adjustments. Maybe he’d want to cancel and reschedule for another day. Maybe he’d want to try a different artist.

She probably sanitized her station three times, organizing and reorganizing her tools, the other artists in the shop occasionally shooting concerned glances her way, but no one had the guts to ask if something was wrong. Not that anything was.

To Remy’s frustration, time was being very inconsistent today, and before she knew it, the bell above the door was chiming and Toby was sauntering in.

“Sup!”

Remy smirked, but it felt a little forced, “Hey gurl, hey,” she stood and gathered the different transfers as she walked over. She didn’t bother with pleasantries or small talk, “You ready, boi?”

“Hell yeah!” Toby was beaming, “I’ve been wanting this for forever, I’m stoked to finally be getting it done!”

His excitement was childlike, and normally Remy would have poked fun at him for it, but it felt like her words were caught in her stomach, a heavy and uncomfortable weight. “Well let’s go then,” She kept her tone light, but took a sip of her coffee so she wouldn’t have to try to smile. “Take another look and make sure there’s nothing you want to change,” she handed him one of the outlines.

She waited for him to find a flaw, something she had missed or messed up, but his smile only grew, “God, it’s even better in person!”

“Well, let’s make sure you like it on your skin before you start jumping up and down,” Remy stated. His excitement was probably premature.

Nodding enthusiastically, Toby handed the paper back before letting his jacket fall from his shoulders, tossing it onto the chair next to the table in Remy’s station, his tank top joining it shortly. He had so many tattoos on his arms and chest, it was almost jarring to see the smooth, untouched planes of his back.

Remy cleared her throat as she approached, “Alright, hold still while I work out which of these to try first.” Toby nodded, staring ahead as Remy held up the different transfers until she had decided which size she thought would work best. As she took a step forward to place the design, her hands started shaking.

For a moment, Remy’s eyes darted between the image and Toby’s skin. Toby loved the design. Virgil loved the design. Hell, if she was honest with herself, _Remy_ loved the design.

So why did she feel like she was about to ruin this man?

Silently taking a deep breath and forcing her hands to steady, Remy placed the image on Toby’s back, pressing down to transfer the ink. Pulling the paper back carefully, she focused on checking that everything was centered. Then she grabbed the hand mirror that she kept in one of the drawers of her desk.

“Alright,” she handed the mirror to Toby, “go check it out in the full length and tell me what you think. Be honest, kay?”

Toby rushed over to the full length mirror next to the front desk, turning and holding up the hand held mirror so he could see his back. Remy watched his eyes dart around, taking in the image and considering it carefully. But after a barely a minute, his face split into a wide grin, “I love it. It’s perfect!”

“You sure?” Remy furrowed her brows, “Just like that? Size, placement, everything? I can adjust the text or the border individually, too. I don’t mind printing out another, it’s not an issue, I can change anything for you-”

“No,” Toby cut her off, eyes moving away from the mirror to smile at Remy, “I don’t want to change a thing.”

The churning in Remy’s stomach increased, and she swallowed thickly as she nodded, calling on all the remnants of her theater days to give a convincing smile, “Well, I _am_ good at my job,” she tilted her head back towards the table in her station, “Alright girl, the time has come. Lie down, head towards the wall.”

October practically skipped to the table, laying down swiftly and glancing back at Remy with a grin, “Be gentle with me,” he said teasingly.

“Just for that I’m tatting my initials on your neck.”

“Oh, please do.”

“Not for free, bitch,” Remy kept her voice light and easy, but the unease had drifted to her chest. Toby turned his head away, and Remy was left with skin and ink. Remy had done hundreds of tattoos- she meant what she said, she was good at what she did. And she loved it- loved body art and carrying your story on your skin. But now, looking down at the tattoo she had helped design on the man she had reluctantly come to know, she felt like she was intruding.

“Moment of truth- no flinching, hon.”

Leaning over with steady hands, bringing the tattoo gun to Toby’s skin, Remy felt like she didn’t belong here. Outlining the text, she felt like she was eavesdropping on something intimate. Tracing bone and branches, it felt wrong to be a witness in this, let alone a participant. Remy wasn’t meant to be a part of this man’s story. Tattooing him didn’t change that. And she hated herself for wishing it did.

The hours passed. Toby chatted, joking and teasing like any other day. Remy tried to fire back, and did a pretty good job if she did say so herself, but there may have been a few times where she said she needed to focus on the tattoo when she really didn’t. When she lifted the gun for the last time and finished wiping away blood and ink, she stopped the timer next to her. The numbers showed that it had been just over four hours. It had felt like a year. It had felt like a blink.

Looking in the mirror again, Toby seemed even happier than before, seemingly unable to pull his eyes away from the art on his back.

“It’s even better than I imagined! God, you really are the best, Rems!”

Remy grinned, crossing her arms in an attempt to look cocky, “I’ve been told.” Laughing, Toby shoved her arm lightly before Remy led him back to her station, “Alright, enough oggling yourself, let’s get you wrapped up.”

Taping the bandages over his back, Remy rattled off the usual care instructions as Toby tried to wave her off.

“This isn’t exactly my first rodeo,” Toby smirked.

“Yeah and I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long.”

Toby gasped dramatically, drawing a huff of laughter from the artist. Settling the bill, Toby headed towards the door, “Well, no clubbing for me tonight then. But I’ll hit you up later this week. Gotta celebrate the new art!”

For a moment, Remy could only stare dumbly. Quickly recovering, she blinked rapidly and forced a smirk on her face, “You know how to reach me, gurl.”

And just like that, with one final wave, October was gone.

For a moment, Remy stood still in the entryway of the shop, before turning and moving to her station. She broke everything down and sterilized all the surfaces almost mechanically. The day had felt surreal. The past _month_ felt surreal. Remy was tired.

Collapsing into her chair, she stared down at the sketchbook laying on her desk. This was the weirdest day. She should work on designs for the clients she had next week. Ali kept harping on her to update her portfolio, maybe she could do that today…

…Why did October act like he was going to stick around? Why were her coworkers shooting her worried glances when they thought she wasn’t looking? Why did all of them make her feel so goddamn lonely every time they said her name?

“Hey, Brett, I’m gonna…. work on my sketches and stuff for the week from home, okay?”

“Uh, sure,” the other artist looked up from his desk, frowning, “Are you okay? You look kind of….”

Remy sighed silently, eyes drifting shut, “I’m just tired.”

“Okay, well, get some-” the bell chimed as Remy rushed out the door. Brett stared at the door with concern “….sleep.”

~

Fumbling with her keys, Remy threw the door to her apartment open, slamming it behind her and locking it absently. She had half considered going to a club but her feet had carried her here. She was breathing heavily through her nose, blinking rapidly. Looking around the space, she was struck by how little had changed in the last six years. Same mattress, same side table, same clutter, everything the same except older and worn and worse, just like Remy. She had told herself she wouldn’t change for anyone, wouldn’t bother finding new ways to disappoint everyone around her, wouldn’t waste time cycling through all the ways she would never, ever be enough. She was who she was, and she swore she would never change.

And she hadn’t. Six years later and Remy was still choking back the same tears.

Legs shaking, she stumbling into the kitchen. She wasn’t the one who sat at home feeling sad and lonely- she decided that a long time ago. Throwing open the fridge, she grabbed the first can of piss cheap beer she saw, tore her keys out of her pocket and shotgunned it.

Gasping and wiping beer from her chin, she moved to her computer, opening it roughly and going straight to spotify, clicking on her loudest playlist, songs with thrumming bass lines and screaming lyrics and booming drums, music to get her a noise complaint in the morning. It wasn’t quite the same as the CityScapes’s five foot speakers, but it would do for now.

Remy forced her head to nod to the beat, returning to the kitchen to fall to her knees in front of the bottom cabinet next to the sink where she kept her liquors. Vodka and whiskey and tequila.

Fuck being sad.

She didn’t want to be this anymore.

She buried the feelings with booze and noise and motion. She took shots without chasers, chugged straight from the bottles, sang at the top of her lungs, danced alone in her apartment as if she could prove every faceless voice wrong. She knocked over a lamp, she pulled old picture frames out of her closet just so she could hurl them at the wall. She cursed out all the people who wanted her to be someone else. She cursed herself for never getting it right. She ran to the bathroom to throw up, she blacked out, she passed out in her bathtub. And when she woke up in the middle of the night, apartment dark and still half drunk, she realized she couldn’t really blame all the people who didn’t want her the way she was.

Remy didn’t like herself either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote for October's tattoo is NOT MINE. Read the full quote here: http://elviiras.tumblr.com/post/129123741606/the-soul-needs-autumn-let-whats-dead-fall-let


	8. Panic Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy swings like a pendulum from one extreme to another. Things get worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Excessive drinking, non-graphic attempted sexual assault, mentioned past transphobia/enbyphobia/acephobia/arophobia/ignorant asshattery

This was taking longer than Remy expected.

Operation: Don’t Fuck Something Up For Once In Your Goddamn Life, as Remy had coined it, had been off to a rocky start. If Toby’s occasional side glances and raised eyebrows were anything to go off of, Remy had probably been doing a poor job of acting natural. He was kind of flying blind here. He had only tried this one other time and that had blown up in his face, but hey! Second time’s the charm, right?

Maybe?

In theory it should be easy. All he had to do was whatever Toby wanted. He was shaking up the etch-a-sketch; nothing he was was worth fighting for anymore anyway. All the pieces of his identity that he had defended so fiercely were starting to feel like shrapnel, so fuck it, Toby could call him any damn pronoun he wanted, could touch him, could fuck him, whatever, who the fuck cares anymore, certainly not Remy, not one bit, yolo.

And yet, in the two weeks since doing Toby’s tattoo, nothing had changed. Remy tried flirting more, but even when Toby flirted back, he would always laugh after a minute and wave it off. Whenever Toby asked what Remy wanted to do for the night, Remy would respond, “whatever you want,” with a smile and a wink, but Toby _never_ asked for anything. They continued to hang out as usual, clubbing or bar hopping or going to obscure movie events. Toby rambled about the shelter and his writing projects, and teased Remy with a fond smile, and asked Remy about his day, and checked his pronoun necklace every time he saw him.

Remy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Which might be why he was currently double-fisting two tequila drinks. There. Problem solved.

The two punks were currently at the bar at Cityscape, the same place Remy pushed Toby away the first time and here they were, again, oh God Remy feels a bit of hysteria growing so he downs one of his drinks, slamming the glass onto the bartop and gesturing the bartender for a refill even as he took a sip of his other drink.

Toby’s smile was stiff, his face radiating concern even as he tried to seem nonchalant, “Going hard tonight, huh?”

Remy shrugged, grinning, “Hey, some nights you just gotta live a little.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Toby responded slowly.

“Come onnnn,” Remy whined, “Neither of us have work tomorrow! Have some fun!” he leaned forward into Toby’s space, “Take a shot with me,” he winked.

“Uh, I’m gonna pass,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I feel like at least one of us should be able to stand.”

“Well _I_ ,” Remy grinned mischievously, “am not throwing away my shot.”

Snorting, Toby couldn’t help but laugh in surprise, “God, how do you manage to be a hot mess _and_ a total nerd?”

“You have a tattoo of ghastly on your hip, you are in no way qualified to call me a nerd.”

“I am OVER qualified to call you a nerd.”

“You said it, not me,” Remy smirked, placing his now empty drinks onto the bar, leaning forward so the bartender could hear him order a shot over the noise of the club.

“Maybe get a shot of water while you’re at it?” Toby suggests.

“Maybe rain on someone else’s parade while you’re at it,” Remy snaps.

Toby held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture, “Geez, just trying to keep you alive, dude,” he furrowed his brows in frustration.

Well fuck. That wasn’t what Remy was going for. If he was being honest with himself, the problem was that Remy was not fully committed to Operation: Don’t Fuck Something Up For Once In Your Goddamn Life. There was still a large part of himself telling him to just bolt, Toby got his tattoo already so just delete his number and freeze him out, you don’t _do_ friends and this is why, just ditch him, rip the fucking bandaid off yourself.

Remy sighed heavily, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I get bitchy when I’m sober.”

“I don’t know if you can call yourself sober at this point,” Toby raised an eyebrow at the empty glasses in front of him and the shot the bartender had just dropped off.

“Hm, I could still be less sober,” he winks before downing the shot because he needed all the liquid courage he could get, and Toby lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head but dropping the argument. His smile is so warm it reminds Remy how cold he is.

And Remy knows how this ends. Sooner or later. He can hold his ground and Toby will leave sooner. He can be what Toby wants and he’ll leave later. He hasn’t found a third option yet. At this point, Remy feels like it would be less like ripping off a bandaid and more like pulling out a dagger. Would he rather die slow or bleed out quick?

Which would hurt less?

He orders another shot.

(Toby feels something clench in his chest. Remy doesn’t look like he’s having fun. He looks hurt. He takes each shot with a wince, like pressing antiseptic to a gash, and Toby wonders what sort of wound he’s carrying that he needs that much alcohol to disinfect it.)

Once he’s finished the shot, Toby smiles and tugs on his arm, “Come on, we’re at Cityscape! We can’t spent the whole night at the bar! Let’s move a little,” he sways his hips exaggeratedly as he pulls Remy away from the bar, the taller punk laughing at his antics. (That’s better. He likes it better when Remy laughs.)

Keeping one hand in Remy’s, Toby skips over to the dance floor, leaving the fluorescent lights around the bar as they’re plunged into darkness, body paint glowing under the black lights. Once they push through the crowd, not as close to the speakers as Remy usually goes, but close enough, they face each other, grinning as they start moving to the beat of the DJ.

Remy loves dancing. He loves swaying to deafening music in a mass of people. The body heat, the skin contact, no eye contact, no obligations. It’s addicting. It’s the most free he ever feels.

He lets go of Toby’s hand, throwing his arms in the air, feeling like he could touch the ceiling, hair tangling around his face. Bright spots of color pulse around him, glowing hand prints waving through the air, and stripes of pink and blue and orange. It feels like there are only pieces of people around him, and it’s comforting, and sad, but the alcohol smothers the sad part so he just smiles wider.

The shots are starting to hit a little stronger, his movements becoming more uncoordinated as he dances, when suddenly he feels a hand clasp one of his and abruptly tug it down. Blinking in surprise, he looks over to see Toby laughing, holding Remy’s hand like a victory.

“I never knew I could jump that high!”

There’s no way Remy could hold back his laughter at the mental image of tiny Toby leaping into the air just so he could lace their fingers together. It’s absurd, and ridiculous, and surprising but somehow not surprising at all because it’s _Toby_. And God, he wanted to feel like this forever- warm, and weightless, and not alone. Lights were flashing and the bass was thrumming in his ears, louder and louder until it almost felt silent, just a hum in his ears.

Remy can feel the music, the bass pulsing like turbulence, but it’s so quiet, he thinks. He comes here because it’s loud, because it lets him ignore any thoughts that go against the identity he’s carved for himself. Here in this pocket of quiet, even his mind feels muted. The dark and the neon surround him, and Toby’s hand is heavy in his, and he loves him, and he never wants to leave. He wants this peace, this comfort, this companion, he doesn’t want to run away from it, any sacrifice is worth it if he can feel like this even _sometimes_.

His eyes fall on October. Black lipstick frames his teeth glowing in the black light, his fiery hair shining, speckles of body paint like stars on the side of his face. He’s twisting and shimmying to the music, laughing so carefree, and he is worth it, and Remy’s lips start moving.

“Please don’t go.”

Toby’s brow furrowed, still smiling even as he asks, “What?”

“I’ll do anything, I promise-”

“Remy what are you-”

“Tell me what you want, I won’t fight this time, I’ll-”

“Remy, I can’t hear you!”

Blinking, if feels like the volume of the music slams into him. Remy looks around, almost dazed. It had seemed so quiet a moment ago, but now he realizes that he’d been mouthing nonsense at October in the middle of the loudest club in town. Fuck his life.

Someone shoves into him, and Remy stumbles forward, bracing himself on Toby’s shoulders as Toby steadies him, the shorter man laughing as they tangled together. Leaning forward, Toby spoke into Remy’s ear, voice breaking through the music, “Come on, let’s go back to the bar for a minute!”

Remy nods mindlessly, too focused on the hand that slips back into his and tugs him through the dance floor. Toby is graceful as he weaves through the crowd, less alcohol allowing him an easier time maneuvering while Remy stumbles behind him. Suddenly, the beat drops, and the music becomes even louder, the mass of people surge with renewed vigor as the music picks up. Bodies press against him, and he feels a little dizzy, but Remy laughs and starts to jump along to the music again.

Toby looks back, laughing and shaking his head fondly as he watches Remy drunkenly move in something that could barely be called dancing. He starts to nod along to the music as well, starting to move back to dance with Remy. Remy twirls and jumps and laughs and blinks and then his hand is empty.

The smile slowly falls from his face, “Toby?” The question is lost in the madness, and he looks around unsteadily but sees no sign of a bright orange undercut.

The bodies around him feel less warm and more oppressive, and his breath catches in his throat. He needs some air. Shaking his head to try to clear the fog settling over him, he began to make his way off the dance floor. It took a few minutes, and his stomach was starting to churn, and he was really starting to feel exactly how drunk he was, but eventually he escaped, finding himself against the back wall of the building, the DJ on one side and the bar across from him.

Bracing himself against the wall, Remy took a moment to just breathe, closing his eyes in an attempt to stave off the dizziness. When he opened them again, he still felt like the room was moving; as though the club was a boat gently drifting back and forth. He felt a little seasick. Swallowing thickly, he starts looking around for Toby.

 _He’s gone,_ Remy thinks, eyes gazing sluggishly across the packed dance floor, _What did I do wrong this time?_ Maybe he should check the bar. Worst case scenario he can drink until he forgets what a failure he is. Maybe. He’s never managed to drink enough to do that yet but he keeps trying.

“Hey pretty,” someone places a hand on the small of Remy’s back, leaning in close to his ear, “You look a little lost.

When he tries to pull away, the stranger follows, and when Remy loses his balance he finds himself bracing himself on the stranger’s chest. “Aw, I got you, baby,” there’s a smile and hands gripping his waist, “You wanna go someplace quieter? You look like you could use a good time…” There were hands on him. Hands around his upper arm, on his hips, pulling him somewhere away from the crowds. Remy closed his eyes.

They were familiar hands. They felt just like the ones that grabbed him in high school, at bars, at clubs, at work, on the sidewalk. There were lips on his jaw, smiling against his skin. Familiar lips, like the ones that told him they could change his mind, loosen him up, make him normal. Remy blinks and the person in front of him feels like a collage of everyone he’s ever fought against- the people who told him he looked too girly but refused to use “she”, who told him ‘aromantic’ was synonymous with ‘alone’, who said his love was worthless if he didn’t _prove_ it. He feels like he’s being led away by a kaleidoscope, nothing but echoes and reflections dragging him towards the bathrooms and he thinks maybe all those people were right. But he figures it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is, he’s too tired to fight anymore.

So he doesn’t say anything when lips trail down his neck. He doesn’t have the strength to shove away the hands that slide under his shirt. The flashing lights become less harsh and the music thrums quieter in the background as they step into the hallway where the restrooms are. Remy’s legs feel shaky, his body half limp, and the stranger is impatient as they push him up against a wall.

He wants to cry but he’s just so, so tired.

That’s probably why he can’t seem to support his own weight when the stranger is roughly pulled away from him.

The floor rushes up to greet him, and a soft cry of pain escapes him as his body lands with a ‘thud’ on the linoleum. He groans, blinking slowly as his vision swims. There is shouting behind him, and even though he would love nothing more than to just fall into the darkness of unconsciousness right there on the dirty club floor, he pushes himself up.

By the time he manages to sit up, his arms shaking with the effort of supporting himself, Toby is shoving the stranger out of the hallway. Blinking wearily, Remy thinks he sees blood on the man’s face. But maybe he imagined it.

“Touch him again and I’ll turn your ribs into a _fucking xylophone!_ ” Toby snarled. Remy doesn’t think he’s ever heard such violent fury in his life.

The stranger backs away, hands held up in a peacemaking gesture. He smiles, and Remy sees his mouth move but he can’t hear him. Toby does. The shorter man growls, pacing forward with cold resolve, ready to tear the man apart. But before he can reach him, the stranger darts back into the main floor, the flashing lights helping to cover him as he ducks back into the crowd of people.

For a moment, Toby just stands at the foot of the hallway, hands clenched at his sides. His back is to Remy so he can’t see his face, and he can’t tell if Toby is shaking or if it’s just the dizziness. Or maybe it’s his own shaking distorting his vision. He feels his body start to tilt, and he considers just laying back down on the floor.

When Toby finally turns around, Remy feels more vulnerable than he did when he was trapped under that stranger’s hands. Remy normally stands so tall over Toby, but now the other man seems to loom as he approaches the artist huddled on the floor.

Remy feels his breath hitch, and his gaze drops. This isn’t who he wants to be. He wants to shout, to stand up and hit something, to be the strong person he’s spent so long convincing everyone he is. But he doesn’t want to be alone, either.

So instead, he pushes through the drunk haze and pulls himself the fuck together. When Toby kneels in front of him, Remy looks up and smirks, “There you are! I was wondering where you ran off too,” his voice is a little raspy, and softer than he was going for, but Toby doesn’t even act like he heard him.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he-” his jaw snaps shut, his hands fluttering nervously around Remy’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, gurl. Take a chill pill,” Remy’s words slur slightly. But he’s still smiling.

Toby isn’t. “Okay. Yeah, okay, come on,” slowly and gently, he moves to help Remy to his feet. Once he’s standing, leaning heavily on Toby, he continues, “We’re leaving. Right now. Let’s just go to my place, I don’t live very far.”

Oh. Right. ‘His place’. Remy nods, “Yeah, okay,” This is fine. He _did_ say he would do anything. He was managing just fine five minutes ago with a complete stranger. With Toby he has the chance of actually getting something out of it. Friends with benefits where Remy’s benefit is the friend. That’s fair.

Toby keeps one arm around his waist while the other keeps a gentle hold on the arm Remy has draped across his shoulders. Together, they make their way through the club and out into the cool night air.

“Alright, it’s not far. Let me know if you need to puke, kay?”

“You’ll find out one way or another,” Remy drawled.

With that, they begin making their way down the sidewalk. Remy can’t seem to walk straight, even _with_ Toby’s help, so they serpentine along the road, Toby occasionally chattering about how it feels like he’s carrying an unconscious octopus, how does anyone have this much limb?? Or checking in to make sure Remy isn’t going to be sick.

Sighing, Remy closes his eyes for just a moment, letting the chill in the air wake him up a bit more. Toby is a warm and solid beside him and Remy loves him. It’s different from the other times he’s thought he loved someone. It’s something new. He wonders what new heartbreak will go along with it.

Soon, just like Toby promised, they arrived at an apartment complex. It was only maybe six blocks from Cityscape, and Remy blinks in surprise that Toby had been this close all along.

It took longer to get up the two flights of stairs than it maybe should have, but Toby was patient, one arm held out in case Remy needed a quick catch. It takes Toby a minute to fumble with his keys, trying to maneuver the door without letting Remy fall. When they finally make it into the apartment, Remy blinks wearily, only vaguely taking in the cozy apartment and the blurry shapes of furniture and decorations. He doesn’t get much chance to really absorb it as he feels Toby start to tug him towards a door. They enter the next room and when Toby flips the lights on Remy realizes that they’re in his bedroom.

And it’s fine, Remy thinks. It’s fine. Toby had put up with so much shit, always coming back for more for some Goddamn reason. He’d earned this, really. Besides, maybe if he had been quiet all those years ago- if he had just laid back and let it happen, if he hadn’t dug his heels in so hard, if he hadn’t fought just to be someone nobody wanted- he wouldn’t have this Goddamn knife in his gut. But now he had a second chance- a third chance, a he-lost-count chance. And he wasn’t about to throw it away just because it made him feel nauseous. It was probably just the alcohol anyway.

“Okay, come one gurl,” Toby mumbled guiding Remy to sit on the bed. “Okay, sit tight, hold on,” Toby half jogged out of the room, and Remy blinked at the absence, but before he could question it, Toby was back and pressing a glass of water into his hands. When Remy remained motionless he gently nudged the glass towards his lips until he got the hint and started sipping slowly.

Once the glass was half empty, Toby kneeled down and started looking over Remy with worried eyes, “Seriously, you’re okay, right? That…. That asshole didn’t hurt you or anything? Are you feeling okay, you drank a lot, are you gonna be sick? Can I get you anything else? I’m gonna take your shoes off okay?” He waited for Remy to nod before tugging his boots off, raising an eyebrow at all the duck tape holding them together but not commenting. “Okay, I don’t think you need to go to the hospital, but you’re definitely going to be miserable tomorrow,” no more than usual, Remy supposed, “Here, I’m gonna get you another glass of water.”

Toby continued fluttering around, bringing Remy more water and tugging his jacket off. His hands barely brushed against Remy’s body and always stayed around his shoulders. His eyes fixed on Remy’s, nothing but concern and warmth in them. He was in Toby’s room and there were no hand on his thighs, no lips on his neck, no cutting words about all the things he hadn’t earned.

Instead, Toby’s words were soft and gentle, “Okay, I’ve got some extra pillows in the closet, do you want extra blankets, too? I figure we can just double up for the night, the bed’s a king and the couch is a piece of shit, so,” he shrugged, “I’ll leave some tylenol on the side table in case you wake up before me. Is there anything else I can get you?”

He kept asking what _he_ could give. Kept offering and offering.

“…Remy?”

And Remy wasn’t even sure what he wanted at this point. Did he want to feel comfortable in his own skin or did he want new skin?

“Hey, Sleepyhead…”

He was just so tired. So tired of not being enough no matter what he does. He failed when he tried to be someone else, he failed when he refused to be someone else. What was wrong with him? Why did he always have to choose between different pains? Why could he never figure out which one was worse?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Do you feel sick? Are you hurting?”

When did Remy start crying?

In an instant, Toby is sitting beside him, “Shhhh, you’re okay, I’m here, everything’s okay now,” tugging him into his arms, he strokes his hair softly. Remy feels like he should stop, apologize, make amends for who even knows what, because none of this is going according to plan. But he can’t bring himself to pull away. Yes he’s drunk, but there are no flashing lights, no too loud music, no hoards of strangers, just one person holding him as if he matters.

(Toby feels lost. It’s not unusual, he’s felt lost about what to do with Remy since they met. He wants so badly to make him feel better, because Remy is not okay, has never been okay as long as he’s known him, but he doesn’t know what to do. If the past few weeks are any indication, he’s only making it worse.

But he just can’t bring himself to give up)

“Come on,” Toby whispers, “It’s been a shitty night. You need to get some sleep, okay? Live up to that nickname of yours,” he smiles softly as he pulls away, “We can talk tomorrow. Neither of us are capable of anything productive tonight.”

He helps Remy pull his hair tie out, and pulls back the covers, and Remy is too disoriented in every single way to do much more than fall onto the mattress and let himself be tucked in. When Toby turns out the lights and slides in next to him, he’s careful to keep space between them, not infringing on Remy’s side of the large bed. It seemed like a good idea until he heard Remy’s breath hitch with tiny sobs.

Hesitantly, he move closer until he could wrap Remy in his arms again. “…Is this okay?”

There’s no answer, but Remy curls up closer and his breathing starts to even out.

(Toby has to blink back his own tears, because he has _no idea_ what is going on, but his friend is hurting and he has to do something. Anything.)

So he holds him, running his fingers through his hair until they both manage to drift to sleep.


	9. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy wakes up, and freaks out, and lashes out, and runs away because of course he does.

Remy wakes up slowly, disoriented by a mix of familiar and unfamiliar sensations. The pounding in his skull is practically an old friend. The ache in his muscles, the layer of dried sweat and body paint and makeup on his skin, the dryness of his mouth- none of it is out of place for him. But the softness beneath him is nothing like his beat up mattress. The sheets feel smoother than the threadbare set he’s had since he moved.

And there are arms around him.

His eyes shoot open, body jerking in shock, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths as he tries to slow his heart rate and take in his surroundings. A light breath ghosts over the top of his head, and Remy realizes that he is curled up against someone’s chest, their chin resting against the top of his head as muscular arms hold him loosely. Remy’s eyes catch a tattoo of a black cat in front of a moon. It’s a tattoo he recognizes, and everything from the night before comes rushing back.

October had held him all night long.

It was becoming a little harder to take deep breaths. Fuck. Fuck, Remy couldn’t do this. He thought he could, but he really, really couldn’t. Slowly, carefully, he slid out of Toby’s arms. The shorter man shifted slightly, but otherwise remained deep in sleep. Once he was free, Remy backed away quickly. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be someone else, he couldn’t be himself, he couldn’t stand around and be tossed aside again, nope, fuck that, he was out, kthxbye.

His head was still pounding, but he ignored it as he searched for his boots, finding them tossed a bit aways from the bed. Grabbing them, he threw them on as quickly and quietly as possible, keeping one eye on Toby to ensure he stayed asleep. The man’s face was relaxed and peaceful, sighing softly as he buried his face a little deeper in his pillow. Remy swallowed thickly, silently cursing the part of himself that wanted nothing more but to crawl back into the others’ arms, to feel safe and secure and warm.

Tangled, dirty hair fell into Remy’s eyes, and he couldn’t even find a hair tie to pull it back. God, he was stupid to think he could even _fake_ being someone that deserved to be here.

Whatever. He was the loner, too cool for friends, with skin as strong as steel. That’s who he was and that was who he was going to be.

Running his fingers roughly through his hair in an attempt to get it out of the way, he took one more glance around the bedroom, briefly taking in the Christmas lights hanging around the ceiling, the overflowing bookshelf, and the desk covered in papers with a laptop charging in the corner. But he didn’t see his jacket anywhere, so he didn’t waste anymore time standing around.

Tip-toeing out of the bedroom, leaving the door half closed behind him, Remy entered what was obviously the living room. The walls held posters of classic horror films, and framed photos of Toby with Talyn and a man he didn’t recognize, as well as several of them with two women who Remy assumed were his moms. The room was maybe slightly cluttered, but clean, and cozy. He saw his jacket draped across the couch in the middle of the room. Directly across from him looked like an entryway to the kitchen, and on the wall to the right he could see the front door. Quickly grabbing his jacket, he checked to make sure his phone, wallet, and keys were in the pockets. They’re all there, and he knows he’s forgetting something, but he can’t figure out what it is and he needs to get out of here, right now, so he clutches his jacket to his chest and moves towards the front door.

“Mmmrew?”

Remy nearly shrieked, spinning around to find the source of the noise. His head whipped around, abruptly reminding him of the terrible headache still present, and searched the room until his gaze finally landed on the floor next to the couch, where a black cat was looking up at him curiously.

Sighing in relief, Remy laughed lightly. He vaguely recalled Toby mentioning a cat before, he thinks. Shrugging to himself, he turned back towards the door.

“MmmmEOW!”

Jumping, Remy spun back around, eyes widening at the cat’s loud cry, “Shhhhhh, shush, shoo, hush!” He whispered frantically, trying to wave the cat away, but it only padded slowly closer, crying even louder.

“MREOOOOW!”

“Shhhhhhhh!”

“Meow?”

This time Remy did shriek softly, flinching to the side as a second cat appeared in the kitchen doorway. This one was orange, with bright green eyes, and trotted over much quicker than the first cat, coming to stand barely a foot away from Remy’s feet.

“MEEEEW!”

“MROW!”

“Could you _please_ use your indoor meows?? I thought cats were supposed to be quiet pets!” Remy whispered furiously. Jesus, he needed to get out of here. Giving up on attempting to quiet the animals, he turned around, ready to bolt out the door.

But before he could take more than a single step, a black blur darted between his legs, sending him stumbling forward, barely catching his balance as he grabbed at the table next to the couch, sending a pile of magazines crashing to the floor.

“MEOWWWW!”

Glancing up, Remy saw the black cat staring at him. He was just about to curse the creature out when a second black cat- the first black cat?- came to stand beside it, making Remy do a double take. Turning his head, he saw the orange cat darting up behind him, coming to curl around his legs.

“Mother _fuckers_ -” Remy tried to step over the cats, all of them crying at him loudly. The orange one stayed right by his feet, one of the black ones tried to bite at his shoelaces, while the third cat stood behind them, crying like the world was ending.

Everything was too loud. Everything was too loud and too close and he just wanted to leave but the damn cats kept tripping him up and if he wasn’t quick then October was going to-

“Jesus Christ, Rem, what the fuck are you doing to my cats?”

-wake up.

For a moment, Remy felt his entire body tense up. But he quickly recovered enough to turn and glare at the other man, “ _Me?_ I’m not doing anything! If anything, I’m the one being attacked!” He gestured at the cats, one happily chewing on his shoes while another rubbed against his legs.

Toby smiled, shaking his head fondly as the third cat jumped up on the back of the couch so Toby could scratch behind its ears. His hair was a disheveled mess, makeup smeared around his eyes from the night before, wearing just a wrinkled shirt and boxers.

Rubbing at his face tiredly, he looked back up at Remy, “What are you doing up, anyway? It’s like six in the morning.”

“Nothing,” Remy replied immediately. Toby raised an eyebrow at him, and Remy tried to wave him off, “Seriously, nothing, just… meeting your cats. All three of them. Seriously, three? Whatever, not important. You should go back to bed, it’s like six in the morning.”

“You should join me,” Toby smirked, winking playfully.

Remy was too hungover for this shit.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. I was right, this was a terrible idea. I’m out,” Remy threw his hands up in surrender, turning to head out the door only to immediately trip over a cat.

“For FUCKS SAKE!”

“Hey, dude,” All joking was gone from Toby’s voice. He frowned in concerned and walked towards Remy, “I was just kidding. But seriously, you should lay down, last night was… intense. And you kind of look like shit.”

Remy giggled with a tinge of desperation, “Please, I am a goddess. Models want what I have. I am an icon, and the lack of appreciation you have just shows I am ahead of my time.”

“Riiiight,” Toby drawled, the concern not leaving his face, “I more meant that you look tired, and you didn’t sleep for very long, so we should maybe-”

“That’s cute,” Remy snapped. His head hurt. He wanted to go home. “I’ve definitely never heard that line before.”

“Excuse me?” Much to Remy’s annoyance, Toby still sounded worried, instead of fed up or angry or disappointed.

“You know, you don’t have to try to be all sly and talk around me, mmkay?” Remy took a step back, stumbling over a cat and struggling to keep his balance when he still felt a little tipsy, “I don’t need any dumb pickup lines or insinuations, it’s getting more than a little irksome trying to untangle whatever subliminal messages you’re trying to blab at me so just. Just _do_ something, stop fucking with me and just… fucking just…” Yeah, no, there was definitely still alcohol in his system, because there was no filter stopping all the words pouring out his mouth and honestly Remy couldn’t bring himself to care.

Toby took a step forward, hands out like he was approaching a spooked animal. Even now he was so fucking gentle, “Hey man, we can talk about, uh, this, but I really think you need to sit down. I can get you some water and-”

Remy gripped a fistful of his own hair. Fuck it, he couldn’t live like this. He was pulling out the goddamn dagger.

“ _What the fuck do you want?!_ ”

Blinking in shock, Toby actually had the gall to look confused, “Remy, what are you-”

“I can’t keep guessing!” Remy knew he was yelling; knew it was early and he was yelling and he was probably going to get Toby in trouble with his neighbors or something but he didn’t know how to say any of this softly, “It’s driving me crazy trying to figure out what the fuck you expect from me! Just tell what you want me to do, or be, or not be, or whatever!” His jacket dropped from his hands, landing with a ‘thud’ on the ground but he barely noticed, “I’m _trying_ okay? For the first time in God knows how long I’m actually trying here, but it’s pointless if you don’t at least give me a hint as to what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing! So…” Remy panted, hands shaking at his sides, and his eyes were watering but it was probably from the headache. “So just tell me what you want so I at least know what to apologize for!”

Silence rings through the apartment. Even the cats are silence, two of them having run off at the yelling while one of the black cats hovers around the couch nervously. Toby is staring at Remy with wide eyes, and he looks more than a little lost, and this really wasn’t what Remy was going for.

This is why he shouldn’t have tried. This moment, right here, the feeling of whatever he had with October slipping through his fingers was _so much worse_ than just being alone from the start.

But he swallows it back.

“Fuck this.”

His voice cracks, but he ignores it as he turns around, stumbling towards the door. He just wants to leave.

At that moment, Toby snaps out of whatever shock had left him frozen, his eyes widening in panic as he saw Remy try to leave, “Woah woah woah, wait!” He rushed forward, because _no_ he was not going to let Remy just leave, not when he looked so sick, not when he looked so broken.

Toby’s hand wrapped around Remy’s thin wrist, jerking him to a halt, “Remy, wait!”

But Remy pulls away, refusing to look back at Toby as he desperately tries to escape his grip, “Let me go!”

“Remy, just hold on-!”

“No! I’m done-!”

“I just want to talk, please-!” Toby reached out with his other arm, gripping at Remy’s shoulder in an attempt to turn him towards him.

Gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut, Remy let out one last shout, “Let GO!” as he shoved Toby away from him.

As they staggered apart, Remy didn’t notice Toby’s fingers snag in his necklace until he felt a pinch and a light ‘snap’ at the back of his neck. The three charms barely made any noise as they landed on the floor, the silver chain tangling around them. Even as the two men each regained their balance, Remy leaning against the front door as his stomach lurched from the hangover and Toby standing frozen next to the couch, neither could take their eyes from the fallen jewelry.

The room was silent except for Remy’s harsh breathing, until it was interrupted by a choked sob. It took Remy a moment to realize it came from him.

Toby’s eyes snap up, and he looks more heartbroken than Remy thought was possible.

“Remy…”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else though, as Remy turns on his heel and swiftly fumbles with the lock until he has the front door thrown open, only to slam it behind him just as fast.

Flying down the stairs, Remy nearly trips three times. When he bursts out of the building, he’s dizzy, and he feels sick, and he thinks he might be crying and he has no idea where to go but he picks a direction and runs anyway. The street is empty and quiet, the cool morning air a blessing against his heated skin, and the sky is still pink as the sun rises.

After a few blocks, the consequence of running with an intense hangover becomes apparent, and Remy ducks into an alley to throw up.

When his stomach is empty, he leans against the wall, and he could almost laugh because here he is again, crying in an alley over a boy he’ll never be good enough for. Nothing has changed. He hasn’t changed.

He leans heavily against the wall, taking gasping breaths and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, and he debates just staying in the alley, but he feels too close, and even though he feels like shit, his body is jittery and restless. He needs to move, needs to run away just a little more.

Taking a deep breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand, he starts walking. He left his jacket in October’s apartment. He doesn’t have his wallet, or his phone, or his keys. His hands reach to his forehead and he realized he doesn’t have his sunglasses. His hair blows freely around his face. The phantom weight around his neck reminds him that his necklace is gone too.

He feels hollow.

Gutted.

Shivering slightly, he wraps his arms around himself. Remy would love nothing more than to fill the emptiness in him with booze, or cigarettes, or unmarked pills like he has so often before, but without his wallet that’s not an option. For the first time in so long, Remy has no choice but to just _feel_ all the bad things inside of him. And there is a lot of it.

This isn’t who Rem wants to be. This is who Remy has spent years trying not to be.

But nothing’s changed.

The sun rises, the light hurting Remy’s unprotected eyes. Downtown wakes up, cars filling the streets and people crowding the sidewalks. He stops in a park for a little bit to get some water from a water fountain and get his bearings. He sits on a bench for a bit before the restlessness returns, and he finds himself wandering again.

He walks in circles. Going around blocks, looking for dead ends, doubling back. His mind feels like static. There are no words to his thoughts, just vague aches and pains. He knows where he wants to go, but he doesn’t want to go there.

But, as the sun peaks in the center of the sky, he finds that his feet take him there anyway. The city settles into suburbs. Remy walks through the nicer neighborhoods where he sticks out like a sore thumb, the areas where he is never more aware of how shitty he must look. The sun is just starting to dip into afternoon when he arrives at the familiar house.

Remy isn’t sure how long he stands on the sidewalk outside, but once he starts walking towards the front door, he feels like he’s moving through molasses. His limbs feel heavy and unwieldy and he cannot deny that his heart is pounding with something like fear. His hand is shaking when he knocks on the door. His whole _body_ is shaking when he sees the doorknob turn.

Picani is dressed casually, no tie and with his shirt pushed up around his elbows to reveal the cartoon themed tattoos on his forearms. He blinks in surprise as he takes in the figure in front of him.

“Remy?”

That’s all it takes. Remy sucks in a breath, and barely manages to choke out one word- “ _Dad…_ ”- before it’s lost to sobs. He feels so small, curling into himself, and covering his mouth with his hands as if he could hide all the pain pouring out of him.

His dad doesn’t hesitate. The first tears have barely made it to Remy’s chin before Emile has his arms wrapped securely around his child. Despite being shorter, Picani feels large, feels strong, and safe, covering Remy like a bandage. It makes Remy cry harder.

“Shhhh, I’m here, I got you, Remy,” Picani whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of Remy’s hair, pulling him even closer as he shakes and cries.

“I’m here.”


	10. House of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy is carrying a lot of old hurts, but there’s one in particular that is becoming to hard to hold on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Verbal abuse, emotional abuse, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia

_(“Sweetie, put that down. That’s a girl’s toy.”)_

Remy spent a lot of time with his mom when he was little.

Emile and Denise Picani were young parents- married in college and having their son while Emile was still in grad school. Once he finished his degree, Emile had big plans. He had just started an internship but already he dreamed of opening his own psychiatry practice. He wanted to open his doors to doctors with more eccentric methods like his own, offer payment plans and scholarships so he would never have to turn away anyone who needed help.

But getting there required long hours and extra days and doing everything he could to network and gain experience and save money. It was hard sometimes, and Remy wished his dad was around more. But it was fine.

_(“Take that off this instant! Boys do not wear dresses!”)_

He had his mom.

—-~———-~———-~——

Emile had painted the kitchen. Remy wasn’t sure when, he couldn’t quite remember the last time he had been here, but the soft mint green of the walls was soothing. Nicer than the plain white it had been when he’d lived here.

A mug of tea was placed on the table in front of him. Remy reached out and turned it slowly, lips quirking up at the Stevonnie illustration along the side.

“Where’d you even find this?” His voice was raspy from crying, but Picani didn’t mention it.

“Redbubble! It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Remy hummed in agreement, keeping his eyes on the table as he lifted the mug to his lips. Chamomile with honey. He hadn’t visited in so long but his dad still remembered how he took his goddamn tea. What was he doing here.

—–~————-~————-~——-

Remy loved his mom. He loved both his parents, and he tried his best to be good for them. But sometimes it was hard. His mom called him a troublemaker, and a rebellious child, and a handful, even though other adults always called him bright, and sweet, and delightful. He drew pictures during recess to try to make his mom smile. Before bed he always put away all his toys and pencils. At dinner he ate his vegetables, even though the bitter taste made him screw his face up.

Sometimes he would look longingly at certain toys or clothes only for his mom to drag him away with a too tight grip on his arm, and he didn’t understand what he did to make her mad.

_(“Take the blue or the green one, you don’t want the pink one.”)_

But he wanted to make her happy.

—–~—————~————–~———-

“Remy.”

Picani was sitting next to him, hands wrapped around his own steaming mug, and Remy couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye. What was he doing here? What if he just made everything worse?

God, what would “worse” even look like at this point?

—————

When his dad came into his room late one night, Remy was still awake, his eyes wet as he hugged his pillow. Emile usually got home long after the six-year-old went to bed, but tonight his wife had asked him to talk to him. As he closed the door behind him, Remy could see his dad look tired. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it all day, and when he turned to look at Remy, he didn’t smile. Remy’s lower lip trembled.

Picani sighed, exhausted, as he sat on the edge of his child’s bed, “Your mom told me what happened today.”

Remy still wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done wrong. The hairdresser had knelt down and asked him what kind of haircut he wanted. So he smiled and told the truth, “I want hair like mommy’s!” and he pointed to his mother’s pretty hair, falling in waves down her back.

Almost immediately she had grabbed his arm, grinding out a quick “excuse us” to the hairdresser as she pulled her son outside. She had yelled at him for embarrassing her, told him not to be ridiculous, of _course_ he wanted short hair, don’t be absurd. And Remy had screamed and cried and fought until his mom kneeled down and grabbed both his arms, shaking him roughly as she told him how much trouble he was going to be in if he didn’t stop this nonsense.

_(“You don’t want to look like a **girl** do you?”)_

He had cried quietly the whole way home, small hands running over short, short hair.

Now his dad was mad, too.

Emile was so tired. It had been another long, hard day at work, and when he came home his wife had insisted he talk to their son about his behavior. She had mentioned that Remy had been arguing with her and throwing tantrums lately, and that today he had had a huge fit about getting his hair cut. Everyday Emile felt a spike of guilt for not being able to spend more time with his family. He knew it was necessary as he went through his internship and worked towards his goals, but he hated being so absent. So of course when his wife asked for help disciplining their child, even though he hated it, he would step in. Sometimes being a parent meant being the bad guy, right?

“I’m very disappointed in you. I expect better behavior than that from you. You can’t throw a tantrum when you don’t get what you want. Your mom works very hard to take care of you while I work, and you don’t want to make things harder for her, right? It makes your mom and I very upset when you don’t listen to us because we just want what’s best for you, okay?”

_(“Be a good boy now.”)_

Tears spilled over Remy’s cheeks, and Picani felt his heart break.

“M’sorry daddy…” The six-year-old whispered, and Emile wasted no time pulling him into a big, warm hug.

“It’s okay buddy, apology accepted. It’s okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them and try to do better.”

Remy nodded against his chest, small hands gripping his back tightly. He’d try to do better.

—-~—————~————–~——

His dad was still waiting patiently, not pressuring, not demanding answers, and Remy swallowed thickly, “Sorry. I just….” his eyes dart around the table and he clears his throat, “It’s… been a rough week.”

Emile looks at him, sees the way his hair is dull and tangled, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his ratty, torn shirt hangs on his frame. Reaching out, he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Remy’s ear as he smiled sadly, “It looks like things have been rough for a little longer than a week.”

A small huff of laughter is the only reply, Remy taking another sip of tea before ducking his head. What was he doing here?

“It’s… dumb.”

Picani frowned, “Nothing that upsets you like this is dumb.”

“I…” Remy bites his lip, runs a hand through his hair, takes another sip of tea, stalls, stalls, stalls.

—–~—————-~—————–~—-

He really did try.

Not hard enough, maybe. Because when he was twelve years old his mom caught him painting his nails with a glittery purple polish. She screamed, and snatched the polish away, and dragged him into the bathroom, shoving his hands under the faucet and harshly scrubbing the still wet paint from his fingers as Remy stuttered out an endless string of apologies.

And that was how Emile found them.

He had managed to get off work early, his hours slowly becoming more flexible, and he had heard the angry voice of his wife as soon as he opened the door.

“How many times are you going to disobey me?? I will not have my son act like some attention seeking freak just because you’re confused, do you understand me?!”

As he got closer he could hear his son’s voice, softer and trembling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, mom! I was going to take it off, I promise! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Rushing into the bathroom, he glanced at the scene for barely a second before pulling the two struggling figures apart, planting himself firmly between them as he turned to his wife, “What in the world is going on here??”

Breathing heavy, Denise froze, not expecting her husband to be home, not expecting this confrontation. Emile turned to glance at Remy. The twelve year old was pressed against the wall, holding his still dripping hands to his chest as he stared at his father with wide, wet eyes, looking for all the world like he expected him to start yelling at him too.

As he turned back to his wife, Emile was sure he had never been so furious in his life.

——~—————~——————~——-

“I made a friend,” he finally says slowly, Picani blinking in surprise, “I think, at least. Maybe. Which was stupid, I should know better than that.”

“‘Know better’?”

Remy nods, tapping his fingers against his mug in agitation, “I don’t do friends.”

There’s so much that Emile wants to say, to ask, to do, in response to that terrifying statement. But he bites them back, and instead manages to reply with a soft, “That’s a lonely way to live.”

“But I could ignore it!” Remy bites out, trying to sound mad even though his voice cracks, “It was easier to ignore that then all the shit that came with disappointing everyone I was remotely attached to.”

“Everyone?” his father’s voice is a whisper, his eyes wide and searching, “Even me?”

For the first time since entering the house, Remy looks up and meets his father’s gaze. Remy’s eyes are shiny with unshed tears, voice shaking lightly.

“Especially you.”

—-~—————-~——————–~—

The next few weeks were a montage of screaming. Picani so appalled how his wife could be so cruel, so ignorant, while Denise insisted that Remy was just confused, just going through a phase, she was helping him in the long run. She stayed at a hotel, Emile refusing to leave her alone with their child, terrified by how he couldn’t get a straight answer from either of them anytime he tried to figure out exactly what had been happening when he wasn’t around.

Remy locked his door and played loud music and screamed into his pillow in a desperate attempt to get all the rage out. It had all been pointless. He had spent twelve years being miserable, ripping himself apart inside, doing everything he could to be the child his parents wanted, and he _still_ had to watch their marriage fall apart. He still wasn’t good enough, his mom still hated him, his dad still ended up crying over divorce papers.

His mom moved out. Picani pulled every legal stop he could afford to keep her away from Remy. Emile and Remy moved into a smaller house, Emile quietly putting aside his dreams and switching jobs, taking a counselor position at the local high school so he could be home with Remy more often.

And Remy didn’t bother trying to be someone else anymore. What was the point? It hadn’t even worked. So he dialed everything up to eleven- he was bitter, and angry, and his insides felt like shards of glass but he buried it under all the things he was never allowed before. Nail polish and makeup and skirts and sunglasses that he never wanted to take off. He said the word ‘genderfluid’ out loud for the first time and then he never stopped.

And his dad let him. Emile smiled, and was careful with pronouns, and let Remy wear what he wanted. But sometimes when he thought he wasn’t looking, his dad looked so _tired_ \- the counselor would lean heavily on the kitchen counter, eyes full of sadness and grief, and all Remy wanted was to stop disappointing his dad.

But he thinks it might be too late for that.

————-

“Remy….”

“Do you ever regret coming home early that day?”

Remy blurted the words out before he could change his mind, turning back to stare at the table top as Picani blinked in surprise, furrowing his brows.

“What?”

Part of him already regretted asking, so sure that he already knew the answer. But Remy swallowed thickly, closing his eyes as he hunched over the table, “When…. When I was twelve… and mom was yelling at me…” Picani’s eyes widened, but Remy barreled on, “Do you ever wish that you had come home a little later? That maybe… if you had, then you and mom would still be together, and you’d be happy and maybe I wouldn’t have turned out to be such a fucking _disappointment_ -” his voice cracks, and he clenches his eyes shut a little harder in a desperate attempt to fight the tears back.

But he doesn’t have time to pull himself together before his dad is gripping his shoulders, twisting him so that they’re face to face, even if Remy still can’t look at him.

“ _No_.”

His eyes snap open, taking in a shuddering breath at the intensity in his father’s gaze. “God, Remy, my greatest regret in life is that I didn’t come home _sooner_.”

A few tears escape against his will, and Remy’s voice is a trembling whisper, “But I ruined everything. If I had just _listened_ , you’d still have your wife, and your career, and-”

“ _She_ ruined everything,” Picani’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument, “You are not a disappointment. You didn’t do anything wrong. You shouldn’t have had to listen to her at all, and I would never, ever wish that on you again. She was wrong, full stop. Leaving her was _my_ choice, because I can’t love someone who would hurt my child like she did. Someone who almost kept me from ever knowing who you really are.” He brought one hand to brush at the tears on Remy’s face, “I love _you_ , Remy, and I have never regretted choosing you over her. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Remy’s chest feels tight, and he can barely see through his tears, and when his dad pulls him forward he doesn’t resist, letting his head fall against his father’s chest as he holds him. “You always gave me so much space… I thought…”

Emile strokes his hair, holding a little tighter, “I know. And I shouldn’t have and I am _so sorry_ , I-” his voice cracks, and he closes his eyes as the first tears escape, “After everything you went through, I was so afraid of hurting you even more, I… I let it stop me from being your dad.” He sighed, “And when you pulled away, I thought you were mad at me for what happened. And I couldn’t blame you for that so I just….”

Remy can feel his father shaking, can hear the guilt in his voice. He wishes he could take it away, but all he can do is admit his own fear, “I thought you hated me for driving mom away.”

He feels his father let out a huff of laughter, “I thought you hated me for not protecting you from her.”

A laugh escapes from Remy before he can think about it, “You mean this whole time no one’s hated anyone? Well I feel like a drama queen.”

The words sound strange through his tears, but Picani laughs and rubs his back soothingly. They’re both still crying, but they’re both giggling too. Remy brings his arms up to return his father’s embrace, gripping the back of his shirt tightly and laughing into his shoulder, “God, we’re idiots…. we should have talked about this forever ago, huh?”

“Some therapist I am,” Picani laughs, pulling him closer.

They let their tea go cold, neither willing to break the embrace until their tears have dried. When Picani finally does pull away, he places his hands gently on his child’s face, smiling with eyes full of joy and relief and pride. “Screw tea, this calls for hot chocolate. What do you say?”

“Yeah… “ Remy feels almost lightheaded with relief. He honestly hadn’t thought that this was an option, but now he can’t stop smiling, even as his voice cracks slightly, “That sounds nice.”


	11. HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy would much rather hide under the covers until the sun goes away. But he knows he needs to talk to October.

Remy really wished he had a cigarette right now.

After waking up the next morning, Remy had called in sick to work. Emile had offered to drive him to October’s place, but Remy knew he needed the walk; needed a chance to clear his head and think about what he was going to say.

Also he didn’t want to admit that he had to go to Cityscape first in order to remember how to get to the man’s apartment at all.

He probably made for an even more odd sight than usual, wearing one of his father’s soft cardigans over his beat up clothes, hair thrown up in a messy bun, arms crossed tight across his body. A large part of him was screaming to just run away. Again. After all, what good was this going to do? Yeah he needed his stuff back, but at what cost? He’d rather just mourn what he had with October quietly and move on. It felt like he had pulled out the dagger and now he was trying to put it back in. There was no way this wasn’t going to make things worse.

But, he figured he owed Toby some sort of explanation. And an apology.

Arriving at the club, it was jarring how different the building looked in the morning light. Shaking his head, he took a moment to get his bearings and orient himself, turning to start down the street he vaguely recalled stumbling down two nights earlier. His fingers clenched around his arms, nails stretching the fabric and he didn’t want to wreck his dad’s sweater but he needed to do something with his hands.

Even slowing down to ensure he recognized where he was, it still took too little time to arrive at the complex he had run away from the day before. Remy rocked back and forth on his toes, staring up at the brick building and debating once more whether it would be better to just dig a hole and live out his days at the bottom of it.

Sighing, he forced himself to walk up the steps, feeling heavy with resignation. The front door to the building was propped open with a rock with “BRB” painted on it. Raising an eyebrow at the item, Remy stepped inside, carefully putting the rock back to ensure the door wouldn’t lock behind him. He glanced at the mailboxes until he found Toby’s name on the slot with “3E” on it.

Walking up the stairs, Remy bit at the inside of his cheek. Maybe Toby wouldn’t be home. Did he have work today? His schedule was always changing so it was probably 50/50. If he wasn’t there should Remy just wait? God, how creepy would that be for Toby to come home and find fucking Remy sitting on his doorstep. Ugh. He could leave a note? He didn’t have a pen though. Or paper. Fuck. He really didn’t think this through.

Too soon he was standing in front of unit 3E. Sighing heavily, he shifted nervously from foot to foot. Maybe this wouldn’t be too terrible. After all, he had assumed there was no way to fix the damage between him and his dad, and he had been _wrong_. Even after years of screwing up, his dad had held him, and forgiven him, and loved him. So maybe… maybe Remy hadn’t fucked this up beyond repair either. Maybe. It was a slim chance but he just has to be honest, just lay it all out there. Fuck, this was getting scarier by the minute oh sweet Lord he should just knock now before he chickens out…

But just as he raised his fist to knock, the door burst open and Toby came flying out, immediately running headlong into Remy. Toby’s solid muscle collided with the artist, sending both to the ground where they became tangled in Remy’s long limbs.

“ACK!”

“Holy sh-UGAR we’re going down swinging!!”

They both grunted as they tried to get back up, the backpack Toby had over one shoulder nearly hitting Remy in the face, while Remy’s bony joints kept jabbing Toby in the ribs.

They had barely managed to disentangle themselves and start to stand when a black blur darted past them, pulling a panicked gasp from Toby.

“HEX NO!!” Toby scrambled over Remy, nearly falling again.

“Ack, watch the elbows!” Remy’s indignant cry went unheeded as Toby raced downstairs after the escaped cat. Standing swiftly, Remy jogged after him. He was halfway down the stairs when he saw Toby making his way back, the runaway cat held under his arm.

“Crisis averted!” He grinned sheepishly.

“Your country thanks you,” Remy deadpanned.

Snorting, Toby rolled his eyes. He had just about reached Remy on the stairs when he suddenly froze.

“Uh….what?”

“Oh nO I DIDN’T CLOSE THE DOOR TO THE APARTMENT!” Toby screeched, shoving past Remy to bolt up the stairs.

“And you call ME a hot mess??” Remy shouted back as he ran after Toby for the second time. Luckily, once they reached the landing, they saw the remaining two cats still hovering in the doorway.

“Back!! Back you hooligans!!” Toby scolded, shooing them further into the apartment and dropping the cat in his arms unceremoniously onto the couch. “I’ve taken them on walks before and they don’t even like it! They literally only want to go outside when they’re not allowed!”

“Bitches,” Remy chimed in softly. Toby turned and saw that Remy was hovering just outside of the apartment awkwardly, arms crossed and eyes roaming the space nervously.

Taking a deep breath, Toby gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Yo, get your ass in here so my renegade cats don’t make a break for it again.”

“I can come back another time,” Remy shrugged, “You _were_ just on your way out. And in quite the hurry, too,” He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Oh, well actually,” Toby chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was on my way to try to track you down.”

That had Remy looking up in surprise. “Is that so?” He hesitantly stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him securely, “And here I was tracking _you_ down. I can’t believe I went outside for nothing.”

“What a tragedy,” Toby shook his head sarcastically. For a moment, they both stood in silence, the air thick and awkward. This was probably the most uncomfortable Remy had ever been in his life, but Toby wasn’t yelling at him and/or kicking him out yet, so he figured things were still going alright.

Finally, Toby cleared his throat, and clumsily reached into the backpack still hanging over his shoulder, “Uh, I was coming to find you so I could give you these,” He pulled out Remy’s jacket first, followed by his sunglasses.

“Oh. Thanks…” Remy reached out for the items even as he felt his heart sink. Of course Toby only wanted to return his stuff. He was an actual decent person, of course he wasn’t going to leave Remy without his phone or wallet or keys. Besides, he couldn’t truly be rid of Remy until he got rid of all his stuff. That made sense.

He was just about to put his sunglasses on and saunter out the door before he could start crying for the millionth time in the past Goddamn week when Toby suddenly held out a hand, “And!”

Remy looked up, and Toby actually blushed a little, “Uh, and,” he reached into his pocket, “I couldn’t figure out how to fix the original chain, so I just, uh, put the charms on one of my old necklaces. I still have it though if it has, like, significance or anything.”

Hanging from his hand was a thin black leather cord, with Remy’s three pronoun charms hanging from it, along with a small silver bat charm with its wings spread out. Holding out his hand, Remy gently took the necklace, blinking rapidly. His lips twitched towards a smile as he ran his thumb over the new charm, “I…. thank you.”

“No problem. It was the least I could do.”

The silence was less tense this time as Remy slipped the necklace on, flipping to the “HE/HIM” charm. He continued to fiddle with it, holding his jacket close to his chest. He had everything back now. Maybe… maybe he should just go…

“Mrrrrrrrrow….” One of the black cats broke the silence, coming up to rub against Remy’s legs.

“Your sweet act isn’t fooling me, no ma’am,” Remy pouted suspiciously.

Toby laughed, “I want to tell you you’re wrong, but his affection is in fact an act 90 percent of the time.”

“Seriously, three cats?” Remy questioned.

“They’ve got attitude but I love them~,” Toby smiled at the cats lovingly. Perking up, he pointed to the one by Remy’s feet, “Okay, so that’s Binx,” he glanced around until he saw the other black cat by the kitchen doorway, “The attempted runaway is Hex, aaaaand…” he stretched the word out as he jogged around the couch so he could scoop the orange cat off the ground, lifting it in the air Lion King style, “This is Halloween! This is Halloween!” He dashed forward to hold the cat right in front of Remy’s face, “Halloween! HALLOWEEN!!”

Remy tried to bite it back, but as Toby finished, he burst out laughing, turning away to cover his mouth. The moment was just too absurd. He was ready to be yelled at, or given up on, but instead Toby was shoving his cat in his face and making ridiculous movie references.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool,” Remy gasped out as his laughter died down. When he looked back, Toby was ginning victoriously, Halloween cuddled up to his chest.

“Stealth level 100, baby,” he winked, and Remy snorted. There was another lull as Remy shyly reached out to scratch Halloween’s chin, the cat pushing his head into Remy’s hand.

“Do you want to sit down for a bit? I’ve still got some coffee in the fridge if you want,” Toby offered casually.

“You know what? I’ll take you up on that,” Remy replied. Hey, he was never one to turn down free caffeine.

Toby immediately seemed to brighten at the prospect of having a task. Setting Halloween back on the ground, he half skipped to the kitchen, where Remy could hear him opening the fridge and various cabinets.

Sitting stiffly on the couch, still holding his belongings tightly in his arms, he took a moment to look around the apartment. He hadn’t really given himself a chance to appreciate the other man’s home the day before, but now he found himself smiling softly at how well the space fit with Toby’s personality. The walls were a light grey, with a variety of framed movie posters on the walls, most of them with signatures in the corners. The couch was worn, a plaid blanket covering what Remy assumed were damaged cushions. The side tables were mismatched, but all had a dark finish that helped tie them together. There was a complex cat tree and a large pillow on the floor against the back wall. There was some clutter on the surfaces, and cat toys scattered about, but it just gave the apartment a lived-in feel. It was nothing at all like Remy’s apartment, and Remy felt a little homesick for a place he didn’t belong.

“Here you go!”

Toby’s cheery voiced jerked him out of his reverie, blinking rapidly as he accepted the glass of iced coffee, “Oh, right, thanks.”

His sips on the drink, mostly to have something to do, as Toby flops onto the couch beside him. Binx jumps up onto the shorter punks lap, curling up and shoving his face into Toby’s stomach. Remy doesn’t want to sit through another empty silence, so after one more chug of coffee, he forces himself to say what he came here to say.

“I’m sorry.”

Toby looks equal parts surprised and confused, “What for?”

“I was more than a bit of a bitch yesterday,” Remy glanced at him with a sardonic grin, “Granted, I’m a bitch most of the time, but you usually don’t have to deal with it that early in the morning.” He nodded at the jacket and glasses on his lap, “Honestly I assumed you’d just mail me my shit or something. You must be some kind of masochist to let me in your apartment again, gurl.”

“Must be,” Toby replied softly. He ran his hands over Binx’s back absent-mindedly, “I’m not mad or anything. You know that, right?”

“Well, I know now that you’ve told me.”

“Rems. I’m serious.”

Reluctantly, Remy looked up and met Toby’s eyes. He was definitely serious, “I’m not mad. I’m just….” he considered his words for a moment, “I’m worried.”

“…Why?”

“Wh- what do you mean, _‘why’??_ ” Toby sputtered, looking at Remy in disbelief, throwing his hands out and gesturing wildly, Binx jumping away at the motion, “Because you are very clearly not okay! And, and I was _terrified_ at the club the other night, and I’ve been calling your work and Roman and anyone I could think of to try to find you ever since you ran off yesterday because I was scared shitless that you were gonna do something stupid!”

Remy blinked in surprise, but any words he might have said died in his throat when he noticed tears welling in Toby’s eyes, “And I don’t know what to _do_. I know you don’t want to hear it, but fuck, Remy I _love_ you, and not like-… I’m not trying to-… I just _love_ you, and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you, but I don’t know how to help, and I feel like I’m just making things worse.”

His voice cracks at the end, and when Remy walked into his apartment he had braced himself for anything but this.

There is a brief pause, but Remy can’t let Toby keep thinking like that. “You….you’re not,” he finally responded. Toby looked at him, looking lost and confused, so he continued, “You’re not making things worse. I, I mean I guess it does have to do with you, in a way, but it’s not like, your _fault_ or anything, it’s just me being…” his eyes darted around the apartment, trying to find the words to explain. Trying to work up the courage to say them. “I love you too and I don’t know what to do with that,” he rushed out in half a breath.

Toby stared at Remy, somewhere between and shock and wonder. He sniffed, rubbing his eyes, “Really?”

He nodded slowly, fingers tapping against his glass of coffee before placing it on the side table so he could wrap his arms around his stomach, hugging his jacket close. “Yeah. I-… That’s kind of part of the problem. I don’t… I’m not….” He ran a hand roughly over his face. Talking was hard. How did his dad do this for a goddamn living?

“I’m so used to people wanting me to be… something else,” he explained slowly, “And… I tried, at first, to change, but it never worked. I was miserable, and I _still_ wasn’t good enough,” he forced the words through gritted teeth, “And it was so frustrating I just stopped trying. Decided to just be everything everyone didn’t want. Loudly. Out of spite,” he grinned bitterly, tilting his head side to side is a shallow attempt at sass. “Besides…It was easier to chose to be alone than to just… be unwanted.”

“Remy…” Toby trails off, not sure how to respond.

“But it’s not easy anymore…” Remy admits, swallowing thickly, “And I…I think I would do anything for you,” he let his eyes flutter shut in something like shame, “and it’s _terrifying_. Because I feel like my anything _won’t be good enough._ Like I’m going to pour everything I have into… whatever this is and then you’ll take it with you when you leave. And God, I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been unhappy as long as I can remember but… less with you. And maybe it’s selfish but I don’t want you to leave, and so I’m _trying_ now. And I... I’d do _anything_ , be _anything_ you ask, if you just please _stay_.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and even with his eyes clenched shut the tears still escaped. Remy felt like he was falling apart, like he was cracked open and revealing all the things he’d spent years trying to deny- that he really was the person hurt by the words and actions of others, that he wasn’t invincible, that he was sad, he was lost, and scared, and hurt, and so fucking lonely. And he didn’t want to be anymore.

“I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Remy’s breath hitched, and Toby hesitantly put an arm around him, drawing him to his side, “Honest, cross my heart and hope to die, I would never ask you to be something you’re not.” He rubbed Remy’s back, pausing in consideration, “Maybe I’ll ask you to take care of yourself. Eat a piece of fruit now and then,” Remy let out a watery laugh, and Toby smiled, moving to wrap his other arm around Remy and pull him even closer, letting the taller punk bury his face in the crook of his shoulder, “You don’t have to change for me, or for anyone. But… you don’t have to force yourself to be anything either.”

“I think I’ve proven I’m pretty shitty either way,” Remy choked out.

“No, no Rems,” Toby hushed him gently, stroking his hair as he tried to find the right words for what he wanted to say, “You said you stopped trying. But, I think you’ve _always_ been trying. You’re always… putting effort into being one thing or another, whether it’s what you think other people want or what _you_ think you’re supposed to be. It’s okay to forget what you think you _should_ be and just…  _be_.”

Remy is shaking in Toby’s arms, breath catching and teeth clenched together, and he thinks he should stop crying, should be calming down, should be nodding and accepting Toby’s words and pulling himself together. He thinks he’s cried in too many people’s arms now. He should be smiling, and thankful, and _better_. This is the part where he’s supposed to feel better.

But October tightens his hold on him, resting his head against Remy’s and smoothing one hand up and down his shivering back.

“Relax,” he breathes, “Just _relax_.”

And, after one last moment of hesitation, he does.

Remy shudders, and takes a deep breath, and exhales all the tension he’s carried with him since he was a child. It feels like letting go after years of desperately holding a door shut, leaving his arms aching and his whole body sore. But he feels like he can breath, even as he starts to cry harder. And maybe it’s not what he’s supposed to do, but he brings his arms around Toby’s back and curls his fingers into his shirt, ducking his head deeper into Toby’s neck, trying to hide in his embrace.

And Toby lets him, never lessening his hold, petting his hair and whispering softly, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, I got you,” and fuck if that didn’t just make Remy cry harder.

But, when he finally does start to quiet, his tears slowing and his breath evening out naturally, he feels…. lighter. He doesn’t feel good, exactly, but he feels like he’s finally cleared out some of the bad. It feels like he has _room_ for the good now.

Breathing deeply, he released the death grip he’s had on Toby’s shirt, and he thinks this might be the first time he’s been with Toby that he truly hasn’t felt alone. When he pulls back, rubbing at his eyes and trying to straighten up a little, he feels Toby rub his arms soothingly, still here, still caring even after watching him fall apart, and when he looks up, he sees that Toby has a few tear tracks on his face as well.

Smiling gently, Toby hesitantly reaches up brush his thumb over Remy’s cheek, wiping away a few lingering tears, “Better?”

Remy nodded, “Um… yeah, actually. I…” He let out a huff of laughter, “I want to say sorry but I feel like you’d disapprove.”

“Damn straight,” Toby bopped the top of Remy’s head lightly, drawing a slightly stronger laugh from him as he batted his hands away.

“…Thanks,” Remy whispered sincerely, looking up so he could meet Toby’s eyes.

“Anytime,” he responded, letting his hand linger on Remy’s cheek for another moment before moving to stand, “Here, this is a good opportunity to practice that “hydration” thing I’ve mentioned before,” he winked and Remy rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. Toby ran to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water, presenting one to Remy with a flourish before returning to his seat at Remy’s side.

For a moment, they both sipped their waters quietly. The calm brought Binx back, the black cat jumping onto the back of the couch to rub his face into Toby’s neck, causing Remy to snicker.

“So….” The artist began nervously, “I don’t… actually know what to do now,” he admitted.

Toby shrugged, lightly putting his arm around Remy’s shoulders, “Honestly? Me neither. But that’s okay!” He smiled brightly, “We’ll figure it out together. Buddy system, right?” He nudged Remy’s leg with his own, grinning as Remy let out a bark of laughter.

“Right, buddy system,” he shook his head fondly. Truthfully though? He was fine with that answer. Sighing contentedly, he went to rest his head on Toby’s shoulder, worn out from the past…. Well, just worn out. But when he moved, his head just knocked against Toby’s, and he found himself having to practically fold over just to get his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“Goddammit, Toby, why are you so short?”

“Excuse me, I am only slightly below average! It’s not my fault you’re a giraffe!” He shoved at Remy’s shoulder playfully, laughing as Remy continued to try to maneuver himself on the couch, the artist elbowing him lightly. Eventually they got settled, Remy resting with his back pressed against Toby’s side and his head on his shoulder, while Toby kept an arm around him.

Looking down at him, Toby reached to hold Remy’s hand, “…This okay?”

Remy nodded, letting his eyes fall closed, “Yeah. Sorry, I’m just… tired.”

“That’s fine,” Toby assured him, “Honestly I am too. You know, it’s funny,” he grinned, tugging on Remy’s hand to get his full attention, “My insomnia usually kicks my ass, but the…uh, the other night,” he waved his free hand vaguely, and Remy nodded in understanding, “that was the first time I’ve slept through the night in forever. I didn’t even wake up in the middle of the night or anything. I finally…” he paused, grinning mischievously, “…caught some sleep.”

“Booooooo,” Remy groaned, “That was terrible. I hope you’re ashamed.”

Toby laughed, “It’s true though! And honestly I feel like I could pass out right now. I can’t believe this whole time all I needed to do to cure my insomnia was-”

“Don’t!”

“-get some Sleep.”

“You’re dead to me.”

Remy moved to sit up, but Toby wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him back, “Noooo, I’m sorry, don’t leave!” He laughed, and even Remy couldn’t keep a straight face.

“You are such a dork.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Laughter trailing off, Remy yawned softly, and Toby pulled him back to his side, “I’m serious though. It’s been a crazy few days, we’re both exhausted, so let’s just… rest for a bit.”

There was a pause as Remy carefully considered the proposal. Finally, he leaned his head back against Toby’s shoulder, looking up at him nervously, “….You’re okay with that? Just…. Resting? I could go home and come back later…”

But Toby shook his head, smiling reassuringly, “It’s fine, really. You don’t _have_ to, obviously, but if you wanted to stick around for a bit, we could take a quick cat nap,” he chuckled at Remy’s groan before continuing, “-a quick cat nap, and then, I dunno, talk, hang out, whatever. Get some food into you at some point, definitely,” he poked at Remy’s stomach, making the other huff offendedly and slap his hand away.

“Rude!” But the words had no bite, and Remy toed his boots off quietly so he could bring his knees up to his chest before responding, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Okay,” he sighed, and his lips twitched towards a smile, “That sounds nice.”

The two punks shifted to get more comfortable. There was lingering tension in Remy’s body, all the same old fears and assumptions creeping back in, and not even the gentle kiss Toby pressed to the top of his head could make it stop.

But there was warmth there, too. There was comfort and contentment and _peace_ setting up a home inside of him as if it planned to stay. It grew stronger when Toby drifted off before Remy did. The taller punk curled into his side, letting his fingers trace the tattoos running down his arm until his mind quieted, and the tension ebbed like a tide, and he finally felt himself start to doze off.

As he falls asleep, he thinks that this moment right here, is absolutely worth taking a risk for.


	12. I'm Glad You Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it’s a little bit scary, but the truth is, Remy is happy.

It had been a quiet Sunday morning when the bell above the door chimed softly, bringing with it a loud singing that quickly had all the artists at Underground Tattoo Studios jumping in their seats.

“DUUUUUH DUHDUH DUH DUH DUUUUUUH DUH-DIT-DUH DUH-DIT-DUH-DUUUUUUUH-”

“DAD WHY.”

Picani grinned widely, stepping more fully into the shop, “What, I like making an entrance!”

“So many things about Remy make sense now,” Brett chuckled.

Laughing, Picani placed a large tupperware container on the front desk, “Here, I brought cookies for everyone!”

“Hell yeah!! Thanks Remy’s dad!”

The desk was quickly swarmed by artists, devouring cookies and rattling compliments and appreciation. Remy shook her head fondly, making her way over to give her dad a quick hug.

“Thanks for the sweets, pop. What brings you in anyway?”

“What, can’t I just stop by to visit my favorite child and remind them how much I love and care for them and give them homemade baked goods?”

“Gross. Absolutely disgusting. Get out of my shop.”

“It’s not her shop, stay forever!!” Ali chimed in from across the room, mouth full of cookies.

Remy stuck her tongue out at the other woman while Emile laughed, “Alright, to be fair, I _do_ have a reason for coming in,” the counselor admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You have room in your schedule for a walk-in?”

Remy blinked in surprise, “You want to get a new tatt?”

“Yup!” Emile smiled brightly, “I haven’t gotten a tattoo since the Tigger one you did on my leg when you first got your license!”

“Well, you _are_ running out of room,” Remy raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“I’ve got plenty of room!” Emile pouted. Remy laughed, and her dad continued, “Besides, I just want a small one!” He gestured to the top of his chest, “Just two words, under my collar bones!”

Chuckling lightly, Remy nodded, “Yeah, I think I can squeeze that in. What words?”

Picani told her.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other, Emile smiling softly while Remy looked slightly shocked. However, Picani immediately panicked when he saw tears begin to form in his child’s eyes, his hands flailing slightly.

“Aaaah wait, no, I didn’t-”

“GROSS. GET OUT OF MY SHOP.”

Picani rubbed her shoulder, offering a comforting smile as Remy furiously wiped at her eyes, glaring halfheartedly. Huffing, Remy pulled herself together, “Fine, whatever, come pick out a font for your stupid dumb tattoo.”

“I love you too, Sleepyhead.”

The rest of the artists were nice enough not to make any comments, simply returning to their own tasks once Picani’s tupperware was empty. Remy set up her station while her dad flipped through the book of fonts, eventually settling on a simple cursive, pretty but still legible. Emile talked about how things had been at the school, and some of the programs he was petitioning for the next year, including a few that he hoped to be the supervisor for, and filled her in on some of the punk kids’ shenanigans. Remy chuckled, occasionally throwing in some sass or commentary, but mostly just letting her dad fill the air with soothing chatter.

Eventually, the transfer was placed, Emile approving excitedly with clapping hands, and the counselor laid down on the tattoo chair. For a moment, Remy hesitated, feeling a sense of deja vu as she remembered the last time she had tattooed something significant on someone she loved. It made her stomach churn a little.

Shaking her head to try to clear the thoughts, she smirked at Picani, “Last chance to switch artists. Cass and Rafa are free, and it’s been awhile, you don’t know how shaky my hands might be these days.”

Remy tried to sound sarcastic, but maybe her eyes were a little too honest, because her dad reached out to hold her hand, smiling warmly, “Oh hush now, I’ve read all the yelp reviews and you’re one of the best. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right is someone else did this one.”

“Well, you better leave me four stars,” Remy squeezed his hand quickly before steadying himself, “Alright old man, brace yourself, we’re doing this.”

“Bring it on, punk.”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, Remy shook her head fondly, leaning down to start the tattoo. It was small, so it didn’t take long at all, and within thirty minutes, the elder Picani was standing at the mirror, taking in his newest tattoo.

_Everything Stays_

Now it was Emile who looked like he was gonna cry, beaming at his child, “It’s perfect.”

“It suits you,” Remy replied softly, hesitantly smiling back.

“So, what do I owe you?”

Remy waved him off, “Nah, this one is on the house.”

Picani frowned, “Now Remy, I really don’t mind-”

“How about,” she interrupted, toying with the bat charm on her necklace nervously, “Um… how about, I come over for dinner after work tomorrow. Feed me and we’ll call it even?”

Without even hesitating, Picani squealed excitedly, “Oh my goodness, yes of course, it’s a deal!!” He clapped his hands together in glee, “Oh, oh, I’ll make a casserole! No, a stew! NO, BREAKFAST FOR DINNER! I’M GONNA MAKE PANCAKES!!”

Laughing, Remy felt the tension leave her body. This wasn’t so bad.

“That sounds perfect, pops,” she replied.

“Well, I suppose I should let you get back to work.”

“Hmmmmm unfortunately,” Remy groaned dramatically, “But… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yup! Just call or text when you’re on your way, alright?”

“Sounds good.”

They shared a quick hug, careful not to press on the bandages on Emile’s collar bones, before the counselor gathered his tupperware and waved goodbye to the artists.

“I like your dad,” Rafa commented from his station, “He should stop by more often.”

Remy hummed in response as she cleaned and sterilized her station, “Yeah, he should.”

This was okay.

The rest of the day passed peacefully, with the exception of a point in the afternoon where the shop was filled with teenage punks. Virgil had stopped by to drop off some concepts, but the other three punks had been practically fused to his hip recently. It only became a problem on busier days though, so for today the artists merely shook their heads fondly, Remy critiquing a few of Virgil’s designs before giving him another assignment and sending him on his way to make some room in the shop. A few more walk-ins filtered through and Remy completed a consultation and scheduled a few new ones. Soon, the shop was closed and the artists broke down their stations, taking out trash and flipping the lights off.

“We’re gonna grab a few drinks at Starlight Lounge, you wanna come?” Brett offered absentmindedly as he put on his coat, barely paying attention as he began walking out of the shop. Cass, Ali, and Rafa trailed behind him nonchalantly.

Remy paused behind them, fiddling with her sunglasses as she hummed in consideration.

“…Yeah, okay.”

Brett, already halfway out the door, came to a screeching halt, causing a chain reaction as the line of tattoo artists behind him all collided into each other’s backs. By the time they got their barings, the group was scrunched together in the doorway, too stunned to disentangle themselves. All four of them were looking back at Remy in disbelief.

“…Beg your pardon?” Cass finally broke the silence.

“Then beg,” Raising an eyebrow, Remy crossed her arms. Cass stuttered indignantly as Remy grinned, “If you were only asking to be courteous, then jokes on you cause now I’m definitely coming just to spite you.”

“No no no!!” Brett responded immediately, “We were just, uh surprised?”

“It was definitely unexpected-”

“Yeah dude, you’ve never-”

“Okay we’re still inside the building so as your boss I’m telling all of you to _shut up right now_ ,” Ali hissed at her employees by the door, desperate to stop their rambling. Even if they didn’t mean to, they were just going to scare Remy off, and she refused to let that happen.

Remy huffed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, looking two seconds away from playing her acceptance of their offer off as a joke, but Ali didn’t give her a chance, “ _Finally_ we’ll have someone as a tiebreaker when Rafa suggests something absurd,” she linked arms with Remy, who blinked in surprise as she was tugged out of the shop with the others, “One week he said we should paint the shop green.”

“There’s nothing wrong with green!”

“Gurl, green is _not_ a creative color,” Remy drawled.

“That’s what we said!!” Brett laughed, falling into step on Remy’s other side as Cass and Rafa hurled profanities at them from a few steps behind.

“Tsk, tsk,” Remy shook her head in mock sympathy, “how have you survived without me?”

“By hassling you extra during work hours?”

“You mean I could have been avoiding that all this time??”

“It’s a trade-off. You either get a little bit of annoyance spread out more, or Annoyance Concentrate during a smaller time slot.”

“I could always just move.”

“Not before you make it through your scheduled appointments you’re not!”

Remy lets out a breath of laughter, out of surprise more than anything.

This was okay.

She was getting a drink with her coworkers. And, initial reactions aside, they had no trouble fitting her into the group seamlessly- inviting her into the conversation, patting her shoulder casually, laughing with her.

A ‘buzz’ sounded in her pocket, and she pulled out her phone to glance at the new message.

 **DocOct:** _Hey_

 **DocOct:** _You wanna come over and watch the new Sabrina series on Netflix??_

Her teeth clench and her reply is a knee-jerk reaction. She doesn’t even really think about what she’s typed until she’s pressing send.

 **Sleepyhead:** _‘Netflix and chill’? Really?_

Remy exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Dammit. Why could she never keep her mouth shut? She should text an apology, right? Fuck, well, they had a good run, lasted longer than she thought it would, maybe she could just move a few towns over before Ali could stop her, should she change just her last name or both-

Another ‘buzz’.

 **DocOct:** _lol oops, I didn’t even think of that XD_

 **DocOct:** _Come over for Netflix and Speed eat popcorn before the goddamn cats knock it on the floor and/or straight up sit in the bowl ;P_

Blinking, Remy glanced around, half convinced she was about to wake up. But no. Her coworkers were still chatting and laughing around her, she had plans with her dad tomorrow, and Toby still wanted to hang out even after she snapped at him. A smile that was half relief and half wonderment crept onto her face as she tapped out a reply.

 **Sleepyhead:** _Oh well in THAT case_

 **Sleepyhead:** _Can you wait a couple hours? I’m out with The Coworkers._

 **DocOct:** _I’ll wait forever ;)_

 **DocOct:** _Have fun! Text me when you’re on your way_

She let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. This was okay. The group arrived at the small, hole-in-the-wall bar, taking up most of the bar stools as they paused their conversations to order drinks, Rafa still pleading with Ali to join in on a game of darts after the first round, only giving up after Brett, Cass, and Remy agreed to a game of pool. This was okay. Remy was inching closer to the people around her and nothing bad had happened.

Yet. There was still a ‘yet’, of course. It still loomed over her, and nearly made her spill her drink when her hands started shaking, but… It felt a little more like an “if” then a “when”. She still drank a little too much a little too fast in an attempt to push it from her mind, but hey, she was here, wasn’t she? So what if she needed a shot to make it through a game of pool. Call it step one.

They didn’t stay too long, what with Brett and Ali having to open the next day. Soon they cleared their tabs and confirmed their schedules for the next day. Ali nudged Remy’s side, leaning in, to speak just to her, “Hey, you’ve got a half day tomorrow.”

Remy frowned in confusion, “Uh, no I don’t?”

“You do now,” Ali declared, “You’ve got overtime out your ass, and only one appointment tomorrow afternoon. Your schedule is now 1 to 6 as decreed by your overlord,” she pointed her thumbs at herself, “Sleep in, come do your shit, and then hang out with your dad.

“I hung out with him today, it’s not a big de-”

“Remy,” Ali cut her off, “Just take the half day. Knowing you you’ll probably still end up with overtime.”

It felt suspicious, and Remy couldn’t help but feel like there was a catch she was missing. But maybe Ali really was just concerned about her overtime, so she nodded slowly, mumbling out a thanks before the two women returned to the others to say their goodbyes, splitting up to go their separate ways.

Walking down the sidewalk, Remy lit up a cigarette, closing her eyes and letting the nicotine and alcohol calm her jittery nerves. This was okay. It was paper thin and fragile. But it was okay.

 **Sleepyhead:** _Brace yourself, I’m on my way_

 **DocOct:** _:D <3 <3 <3_

 **Sleepyhead:** _calm down_

 **DocOct:** _no_

Remy snorted, pocketing her phone and maybe walking a little faster. When she arrived at Toby’s apartment, she pressed the buzzer for his unit rapidly and repeatedly, grinning when she could hear a soft “fuck!” from the window above her just as the door unlocked. She jogged up the stairs, Toby already at the door when she reached his floor.

“Thanks for ringing the doorbell so much, the cats started screaming at me,” he huffed dramatically.

“You say that like they don’t scream at you all the time for literally any reason.”

“Just because that’s true doesn’t mean you’re right!”

Snickering, Remy slipped past him into the apartment, giving Binx and scratch on the chin as she passed by. “I am making myself at home and you can’t stop me,” she declared as she kicked her shoes off, dropping her bag on the ground before falling onto Toby’s couch, sprawling out and letting her long legs extend over the armrest.

“Hey, you know I support coziness. Although in theory this couch is supposed to fit two people,” he raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the side table.

“You were lied to,” Remy responded immediately, sinking deeper into the couch and throwing her arms out to take up more space, making Toby bark out a laugh.

“Apparently,” he shook his head in amusement, “You have fun with the gang? You don’t seem _completely_ wasted,” he commented.

Remy shrugged, “It was fine. I’m tipsy at most.”

Standing, Toby gestured towards the kitchen, “You want some water? I’m about to throw some popcorn in the microwave.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” Toby chuckled, wandering into the other room to get their treats ready. Remy sighed, closing her eyes for a minutes.

After a few minutes the smell of popcorn filled the apartment, and Toby poked his head into the living room, “Oh hey, I know you pre-gamed, but wanna take a shot with me before the first episode?”

“Oooh, don’t mind if I do,” Remy grinned, always happy to get some extra liquid courage. She sat up and shifted to lean against the arm rest, legs still stretched out over half the couch.

Toby came back with two shot glasses filled with clear liquid and handed one to Remy, “Cheers!” they clinked glasses before downing the liquid.

Remy sputtered as she swallowed, half laughing and half appalled, “Wait, was that just water?”

“Not bad right? Want some more? I’ll let you drink straight from the bottle,” Toby winked.

Remy gasped indignantly, “Rude!” she moved to try to kick Toby’s thigh, but he skipped out of the way, laughing.

“That’s what you get for turning down an actual glass of water!”

“Okay fine, you’ve pushed your extremist water agenda. Get me a bottle and let’s watch the damn show,” she tried to look annoyed, huffing and crossing her arms, but it was too obvious how she was fighting a smile.

“Hah! Score!” Toby rushed to the kitchen, returning shortly with a water bottle and a bowl of popcorn with m&ms mixed in. He tossed the bottle into Remy’s hands before casually lifting her legs, sitting on the couch before setting them back down across his lap and placing the popcorn bowl on top of her shins. “Just wait, hydrating is the Gateway Health- soon I’ll have you taking off your makeup before bed and eating a vegetable.”

“Gross. I don’t want the water anymore.”

“Take a fucking sip, babe.”

Laughing, Remy relented, sipping on the water as Toby leaned forward to set the show up on his laptop before pressing play.

They both heckled throughout the show, commenting on everything and everything, Toby occasionally talking about the comics or the old tv show, and both of them fighting off the cats as they tried to walk across the computer or paw at the popcorn bowl.

It wasn’t until halfway through the third episode that Remy realized how much she had wanted this. She thought of all the times in high school when she had just wanted to spend time with someone only to find out that they just wanted to get her alone in their room. But here she was- Toby had invited her over to watch a show and they were watching a show, Toby occasionally tossing popcorn into her mouth or slapping at her legs when something exciting happened on the screen, while Remy nudged his stomach with her foot when she wanted his attention and let two of his cats curl up on her chest. Not all the bad feelings were gone. But there was good now, too. A lot of good.

Smiling, the thoughts left her head, too distracted by Toby ranting about how disappointed he would be if they didn’t do a Riverdale crossover, and both of them exaggerating their offense at Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” message.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life! No Ma’am!”

“‘Are we still watching’? Are you still being a BITCH??”

“What kind of disrespect?”

They both huffed, desperately holding back laughter. Toby reached to start the next episode when he noticed the time, “Oh shit, I didn’t realize how late it was,” he glanced over at Remy, “Thoughts?”

Remy hummed in consideration, “I should probably head home. But…” She sat up, sending the cats scattering, rubbing the back of her head shyly, “…we should definitely finish this soon. I’m hooked.”

“Hell yeah!” Toby replied immediately. “I’m free most evenings this week, so just hit me up!”

“You say that like you won’t conveniently run into me at some point,” Remy teased, pulling her shoes on and gathering her things.

“You don’t know me.”

“You wish.”

Just as she stood to put her jacket on, Toby jumped up to stand on the couch, reaching over to pull Remy into a hug, tugging her head down to rest on his chest.

Remy blinked in surprise, “What is happening?”

“I’m giving you a hug goodbye!”

“No, I got that, I mean why did you have to stand on the couch to do that?”

“Because I’m the big spoon whether you like it or not.”

Remy let out a loud laugh, bringing her arms to return the hug tightly, “Dork.”

“You love meeeee.”

“Unfortunately,” She smiled, pulling away and ruffling Toby’s hair as he jumped back onto the floor, batting her hands away.

“My heart is tall!”

“I can tell.”

Remy made her way to the door, Toby grabbing her hand at the last minute to kiss her knuckles, smirking slyly as she flushed, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe?”

“Ew. Stop. No,” she pulled her hand back, trying to glare through her blush. October was a dork but he was a smooth dork and she kind of hated it sometimes.

“Pleeeeeeease?”

“Okay, fine, I’ll let you know I’m not dead,” rolling her eyes, she still smiled as she waved goodbye, stepping into the hallway as Toby closed the door to keep the cats inside.

It’s dark and quiet outside when Remy steps onto the sidewalk. She grinned as she walked down the street, head clear as she made her way home after a long night of laughing and smiling more genuinely than she could remember in a long time. She doesn’t even feel the need to light a cigarette, enjoying the clear air and letting the brisk wind sooth her.

Yeah. This was okay.

Remy repeats that to herself a few more times, smiling wider as she makes her way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BF02aySYYfbnD36fbxPeL  
> Find more Punk AU stuff at asofterfan.tumblr.com <3


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